


captive no more (we are free)

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, B E D S H A R I N G, Bedsharing, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben Solo is in a dark place for a bit and thoughts of self-harm, Ben still Jedi trains, Bloodline Spoilers in chapter 5, But it's a slow burn, Crimson Dawn (Star Wars), F/M, Family Angst, Freeing Slaves, Kylo Ren Comic spoilers (kinda), Mentions of Slavery, Minor Character Death ch9, No Palpatine at all, No Rey Palpatine, Palps is dead, Rey is not half-clone, Sequel trilogy spoilers, Slow Burn, Snoke is not a clone, The HEA is here <3, bloodline spoilers, but I promise HEA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 147,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23494597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: An AU in which Rey is sold to Crimson Dawn and is raised in the world of crime syndicates. Ben Solo has been sent to train as a Jedi his uncle. Their separate futures seem to be set in stone--until the Force intervenes.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 701
Kudos: 302





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madi_solo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madi_solo/gifts), [Frumpologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/gifts), [QuinTalon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuinTalon/gifts).



> This story is a complete AU. Rey is raised by Qi'ra in the Crimson Dawn. There is no Palpatine. At all. It’s just Snoke. Because I really can’t deal with pickle jar clone Palpatine and Snoke. And this is my AU. Rey’s parents are nobodies from nowhere on Jakku. Her dad isn’t a squib failed Palpatine clone. I mean none of this as any offense to RC, the author of The Rise of Skywalker novelization. I honestly think she did an amazing and beautiful job with a very bad and very lazy script.  
> That said, I'm by no means a Star Wars expert. I love to read, and love Star Wars, the movies and Rebels (still working my way through Clone Wars). This story would not be possible without the eyes, ears, and support of dear, dear friends. madi solo, QuinTalon, and Frumpologist are the greatest alpha and beta team I could have asked for with this story! I love you all and thank you so much!!!  
> And thank you to one of the Skytalkers team for looking at my outline and offering thoughts as well! All remaining errors are my own. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Mentions of human trafficking and narcotics smuggling. One character begins the story as a slave, another character is manipulated and abused mentally, verbally and eventually physically. Eventual brief mention of self-harm.
> 
> This is a work of fiction and fun, and I own no part of the DLF universe. No copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> Welcome to part one of my slow burn Star Wars story. We begin with a young Ben Solo on Chandrila.  
> <3 I hope you enjoy.

* * *

_ There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force. _

_ There is no emotion, there is peace.  _

_ I don’t believe those words anymore. I don’t know if I ever believed them. All I know, and all I ever see, are emotions.  _

_ It’s everywhere. Fear, anger, hurt, hate.  _

_ Love. There’s love, too. I sense it between Mom and Dad. And Mom loves Uncle Luke. And her job. Dad loves the Falcon. _

_ But they all fear me. Fear my outbursts. Fear what happens when the headaches are too much, when I can feel too much. But Uncle Luke has the Force, too. This shouldn’t scare them. If Mom would just be around more to show me things… I don’t want it to just be Uncle Luke teaching me. He’s… he’s Master Skywalker. He brought down the Emperor and Vader. And I don’t like to admit how much that scares  _ _ me _ _ , but it does. How can I ever hope to be that strong? I’m just a kid. And he’s… like something out of my holovids. Or old books. And I’m afraid he can see in me and know I’ll never measure up. That he’s wasting his time.  _

_ I know there’s hate. I hate that Mom is always talking to someone else even when she’s home. I hate that I should just come to expect Mon Mothma’s face will appear over a holoprojection around the home at any time when a new bill is being written, or something like that, and that she can’t just be my Mom. I hate sharing her with the galaxy. Mom hates when Dad does somthing she thinks is stupid. I actually don’t think the things she gets mad at are stupid, but… Mom does. And I just keep quiet until I’m alone with Dad or Chewie.  _

_ Dad hates when I blow things up. He hates that he gets mad at me because Mom yells at him that I can’t control it. He hates that he’s afraid of me. All the things he hates seem to revolve around me.  _

_ Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe none of them can decide if they love me, hate me, or fear me. Maybe I can’t decide that either. Maybe I just wish I were normal, that I never heard of the Force, or knew I was sensitive to it. Maybe _ —

“FROM PRINCESS LEIA ORGANA. URGENT MESSAGE, GENERAL SOLO. URGENT!”

Ben Solo is so startled from his mother’s protocol droid’s announcement he drops his pen, splattering ink all over his parchment sheet. He swears under his breath; this is his last clean sheet, and he doesn’t know if Mom’s remembered to reorder a fresh supply yet. Odds are probably not, even though he told her at the beginning of the week— _ before _ the incident in the family hangar. It’s times like these Ben wishes his mom would remember he’s now  _ ten _ , and therefore now responsible enough to reorder only what he needs. He can read now, after all. 

Maybe she should follow her own advice and remember ‘y _ esterday is done, today is what matters _ ’ every once in a while. 

“General Solo—”

“Not now, Elsie!” 

Ben folds his lips into a thin line as echoes of his dad stomping across their family home reach his school room. They clang around his head, ringing hollow in his chest. Ben knows that stomp; he’s all too familiar with what’s going to come next. 

But maybe… 

Maybe this time can be different. 

It’s with that tiny drop of hope that Ben stands from his desk and makes his way to the door. He presses on the keypad and crosses the threshold into their main living quarters in a single step. His eyes tell him he was right: Dad’s got a bad slung over his shoulder, half opened as he’s throwing and shoving things inside. A pair of boots are slung over his other shoulder, and his hair’s all messy and standing up in four different directions. 

As if he’s been pulling at it. Or running his hands through it like he does when he’s not sure what to do. Or really upset… 

Or about to do something really,  _ really _ stupid that’ll make Mom mad. 

Ben flexes his hand, gathering his nerves as he asks, “Where you going, Dad?” 

Han Solo’s fist collides with a keypad into a storage quarters, but his dad doesn’t go into the room as the door hisses open. He doesn’t turn around at first either. He just… stands in the open doorway. With his back to Ben. Countless emotions rolling off of him in waves. Every last one of them crashing into Ben.

Anger, fear, hurt, jealousy, pride, pain. 

It’s the pain that makes Ben take three steps forward. That boosts him into thinking maybe things could be different this time. Maybe Dad would forget about the hangar incident and take Ben with him this time. Maybe Dad would give him the chance to be a little starfighter after all. 

“Sorry I interrupted you, kid,” Dad says, turning around, dropping his boots and bag. His eyes—they’re wild and wide, and it looks like maybe he’s been crying a little bit, too.  _ Maybe _ … His throat bobs and he takes a few steps towards Ben. “Look I, uh… I wanted to tell you that it wasn’t your fault. What happened in the hangar.” He shakes his head, eyes falling to the floor between them and Ben almost believes the lie. 

_ Almost _ . 

“At least… I don’t think it was your fault anyways. I don’t really get it—all this Force mumbo jumbo—but, I know you, Ben—at least, I think I do—and I don’t think…” Dad keeps trying, though, unaware of how Ben’s hand is slowly curling inward. Into a fist. A tight fist. Dad looks back up, crossing the final gap between the two Solo men, resting his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You… you wouldn’t do that much damage on purpose. If you could help it, right, son? I’d like to think your mother and I taught you better than that already, but maybe we’ve just been shit parents, and maybe you’ve every right to be angry at us. At me most of all. So may—”

“It’s not you, Dad,” Ben interjects, needing to end this useless talk. Because it’s useless and coming to nothing anyways. It’s the same end, and it’s nothing Ben’s not used to. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I need to say that. And I don’t know how many times I have to say I don’t want to go to whatever training Uncle Luke is starting up.” He squares his shoulders, tightening his jaw, and juts out his chin, imitating the man before him perfectly. Maybe if Dad sees a little bit of himself in Ben, a little more than something to be afraid of, maybe he’ll  _ listen _ . Just this once. “Please don’t let them send me away. Take me with you.” 

Ben can feel it: the sensation of something inside his dad—whole and beating—cracking, then shattering into a thousand pieces, and falling—and Ben knows he was a fool to hope. A fool to dream this time would be any different. 

“Ben…” 

Dad’s fingers tighten over his shoulder, but Ben’s heard enough. He shrugs himself free from his father’s touch, backtracking towards the door to his school. Dad’s chest heaves and he takes a single step forward, that free hand raking through his hair. Ben’s back makes contact with the cool metal door, his face now a practiced mask of indifference, and Han starts to huff and pace a stomping path. He swears so loud Elsie lets out a mechanical gasp and scolds him for using such language around a child. 

Ben doesn’t care, though.

It almost dulls the pain etching over the room, filling the void of loneliness setting in. It helps for Ben to know this isn’t exactly what his dad wants to happen either. That someone just might be on Ben’s side. For once. 

His hand shoots out and he punches the keypad for the door. It hisses open and Ben locks himself inside before his dad can say, or not say, anything more. Before he can allow himself to collapse into his dad’s arms. Before he can lower himself to  _ begging _ to be stolen away. 

A knock sounds from the otherside of the thick metal door, but Ben doesn’t answer it. He forces himself to sit back at his desk, taking up his pen again to go through his penmanship exercises.

“Ben, I’m… I’ll tell Chewie you say hello. I’m stopping there first to see if he wants to join me with this new idea. I’m thinking about starship racing. Learning that and training pilots…” There’s a pause and a scuffing sound, and Ben imagines his dad is stuffing his hands in his pocket while toeing the smooth, glossy floor. “Maybe… maybe you and Luke can come out that way and watch sometime. Or maybe I’ll have some time to come and get you myself to check it out, yeah?”

Ben doesn’t answer, continuing to write, his pen pressing loudly to the parchment. Loud enough so he knows his dad can hear, even through the door. The silence stretches on into something uncomfortable before Dad swears one last time and sighs. “I’ll leave you to your work then. Love you, Ben.” 

It’s a long time before Ben stops writing. Long after his home has gone completely quiet with the departure of his dad. And it’s only then that Ben allows the mask to slip to the floor and hot tears to stripe down his cheeks. 

“I love you, too, Dad,” he croaks to no one.

* * *

Dad sends him a holomessage before Ben goes to bed that night. 

Ben doesn’t want to listen to it. And yet he does. 

He hates himself for needing these last words from his father. He hates that he doesn’t want to chuck the entire comm out his balcony window and crash into some tree in the gardens… 

Something cold settles over him, a thick blanket that he can’t shake away. It sinks into his bones, and it leaves Ben wondering if he’ll ever know light beyond the dark of this moment again. 

He’s not fully aware he switches the message on, doesn’t even remember pressing the button until his room glows with a soft blue and there’s a projection of his dad over his desk. 

_ “Hey, kid. We didn’t leave on the best note, and that’s my fault. I should’ve been straight with you from the start. I should’ve told you how much you mean to me. But I didn’t, and I’m sorry. I’m not the best with words and telling you things… Hell, I’m not the best when it comes to showing you things either.” _

Ben snorts at that, rolling his eyes as holo-Dad clears his throat.

_ “Look, Ben, this wasn’t my choice,” _ Dad says. “ _ I fought this from the start. I wanted your mother to take some time off from the Senate and take you to Luke herself. Let the two of you spend some time with Luke and work some things out together. I even offered for Luke to come live with us for a little while—but this was what everyone else thought best. I’ll try to come visit you soon. After you’ve had some time to adjust. Or maybe Luke can bring the two of you out my way. Or all the other students, too. I dunno how all this is going to work now.”  _

Dad pauses again and looks straight ahead, as if he’s looking right at Ben. And right into his soul. 

“ _ We’ll figure this out, Ben. We won a war. We can figure out how to keep a family together, okay?”  _

The projection fades away, leaving Ben in the dark once more. All alone in his room. With nothing left to do but replay his dad’s message over and over, long into the night. 

He doesn’t realize he’s been crying all that time until he rubs his tired eyes and feels the tears against his fingers.

* * *

_ I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. I hate all of this. I want to get Dad on the communique and have him meet us there to get me and  _ _ I don’t want to go _ .

_ I don’t want to do this.  _

_ I don’t know why it makes it so much worse that Mom can’t take me, but it does. I don’t want to cry over this. I’m too old to be crying this much. I should be used to this. Immune even. That’s the correct word, right? Mon Mothma was over earlier in the week to talk about a series of mercy missions to some Inner Rim worlds _ — _ delivering vaccines and medicines. The word “immune” was used, and I think I got it right.  _

_ It helps getting caught up in little things like that. Helps me breathe.  _

_ Because I couldn’t when Mom just came in to tell me she won’t be able to get away to take me to Yavin. I  _ _ couldn’t _ . _ If I had, I would’ve given in to that feeling again. That urge to crush everything in the room, in the house even. Crush it or blow it up. I think I could do it. I think something in me is strong enough to show them all just how much they’ve hurt me, and make them wish they hadn’t…  _

_ But I don’t want to give in to that. Don’t want to be the reason Dad yells and flies away, and Mom cries and throws herself into the Senate.  _

_ I just want to be the reason we can stay. Part of the family we used to be. But maybe I shouldn’t be surprised those days are gone. That I’ve messed up too many times. That I’ve messed them up to the point we’re all going separate ways, and Mom can’t even give me a proper send off. That she’s asking Uncle Luke to come and pick me up, like I’m a wrong order to be returned to the factory.  _

_ Maybe that’s what I’ve always been. Mom doesn’t say much on the Force. I know she’s sensitive _ — _ I can feel her. I can  _ _ feel _ _ her reach out sometimes, when she doesn’t think I’m reaching out to her. She’s surprised to find me waiting on her in the Force. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s just… a feeling that maybe she’ll come look for me out here in this space between the stars and air… She’s happy when she reaches out and feels me. At first at least. There’s something happy there, but then there’s fear and I don’t know why.  _

_ Maybe she can sense that cold that’s all around me. That’s inside me. Maybe it scares her as much as it scares me.  _

_ Maybe this final decision for her to not take me is another way of saying that she fears me more than she loves me.  _

Ben can’t breathe as he ponders what he’s just written. An actual lump has swelled in his throat, and it’s impossible to swallow. To catch a breath… 

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” he tries, closing his eyes. “There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is  _ no _ emotion.  **There. Is. Peace** .” 

It’s placating. That’s all it is. He knows that word, too. Mom uses it sometimes when talking about Dad bringing home a new plant or flower present after they fight, but Mom’s always still just a bit hurt. Just a bit mad. That’s how this mantra is. It helps him breathe, but he still doesn’t believe any of it.

He doesn’t think he ever will. 

And all that means is that he’s going to disappoint his family in a whole new way now. He can’t train to be a Jedi if he doesn’t believe in their code. He can’t. 

He  _ can’t _ …

And yet somehow, he’ll have to.

* * *

Ben doesn’t like his uncle's starship. 

At  _ all _ . 

It smells entirely too clean, as if it’s never been used. Or rarely at all. And it’s too sleek and shiny. Too new. Not like the  _ Millenium Falcon.  _ The  _ Falcon _ ’s been lived in. Loved. Been through scraps and scrapes. And so has Uncle Luke’s trusty old X-Wing. 

Everything uncomfortable and squeaky about this new ship—a gift, his uncle tells him—feels like an omen of sorts. A sign. A hint from the galaxy that everything about this is a bad idea.

In other words, Ben has a very bad feeling about all this, and Uncle Luke hasn’t said much to him, because Ben’s made it perfectly clear with his stiff jaw and tight hold to his bag that he’s not in the mood for small talk. 

It doesn’t surprise Ben at all to feel a cold knocking against the doors of his mind—that’s an all too familiar feeling. He’s felt it as long as he can remember. He’s also fought it off for as long as he can remember, too. He’s never felt right in inviting that presence in…It surprises him how easily he gives in now, though. And the sense of relief he feels when he opens the door. 

He’s cold all over almost immediately and shivers in his seat. He’s never been more thankful to be ignored; Uncle Luke is talking to Artoo about the nav computer, and doesn’t notice any change in Ben. To anyone on the outside looking in, Ben’s just a boy strapped into a seat behind the pilot’s chair, who’s possibly cold while his body adjusts to temperatures of deep space. 

No one would ever know that Ben’s just met the voice that’s haunted him for years. And  _ years _ . 

“ _ Young Solo. We meet at last. Hello.”  _

Ben swallows the lump in his throat, his heart racing. “ _ Who are you?”  _ he asks silently. 

The voice seems grin, and Ben doesn’t know if it’s a friendly look or scary one. “ _ You may call me Snoke.”  _

Snoke. 

Ben’s never heard that name before. He’s not certain what to make of it. Of what he’s just done. 

But Snoke talks to him off and on most of the journey to Ben’s new life, and Ben doesn’t feel quite so alone for the first time in a very long time.

* * *

Except that feeling doesn’t last long. 

Ben’s more alone than he’s ever been in his life. 

He’s noticed on days when Snoke talks more, he has nightmares. Bad and dark ones. And it takes him longer to meditate himself back into a sense of calm the next morning. So Ben tries to keep things to a minimum. He’s polite, but he doesn’t engage often. It’s more he listens, and answers questions. 

And accepts the occasional compliment, because he’s never received many of those—though he feels he deserves them more often than he’s been given. 

Today’s been horrible though. It’s been bad all around. He did everything asked of him, and did it perfectly. He was flawless in form and technique, but still Vos laughed at him. She’s new and he doesn’t know her well enough, so it shouldn’t matter that she laughed at Ben’s level of care. 

But it does. 

To make things worse, Uncle Luke watched Ben the whole time. Watching to see how he’d react. His blue eyes pierced into Ben as Ben’s fingers curled into a tight fist, and his chin lifted just enough to say wordlessly across the room that Ben better be careful. Better be mindful of his thoughts and feelings. 

Ben’s alone now, and he doesn’t want to be mindful.

He wants to scream and yell and break every piece of furniture in this empty excuse of a room. He wants to crush the large slabs of stone in the temple down to tiny rocks. He wants every one of the few other students here who laughed along with Vos to  _ know _ Ben’s not to be laughed at.

He paces the length of his hut, his head pounding because he won’t let Snoke in. He’s locked him out because he doesn’t want nightmares tonight  _ more _ than he wants to be understood.He wants to be  _ seen _ . For everyone to know he’s the best student here. He wants to be special and different. He wants  _ so much _ to not be ignored… 

He worries his hands and paces until his legs are sore. And his eyes are heavy. So very heavy. And he’s already run lots today… 

And he didn’t touch supper…

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to sit against the thatched wall. For just a moment… Just to give his legs a break. 

Maybe he could close his eyes for a moment, too… 

There’s no reason to think the nightmares would come tonight… 

He hopes.

* * *

For once in his life, his hope came true. 

Ben didn’t have a nightmare that night. Just the opposite, actually. 

He lunges for his writing desk, his legs so stiff it’s more like stumbling, but he doesn’t care. He needs his parchment and pen. Mom sent him a brand new set last week, and Ben suspects it’s a bribe for forgiveness, but whatever. 

Whatever. 

Ben takes it because he’s come to love the writing. He enjoys the soothing feeling that comes from putting thoughts to actual paper.

Or making note of when something important just happened. 

And Ben doesn’t know how or why, but last night’s dream feels important. 

_ I think I’m going to get all this wrong, but I had a dream last night. I was somehow everywhere I’d ever been, and I know that sounds crazy. But I know I was in my room back on Chandrila, and the hut, and my quarters on the Falcon, and where I sleep on Mom’s ship. I was even in the guest room of Chewie’s home… And it was dark. It was so dark. Like nothing I’ve ever seen or experienced before. _

_ Until this blue light appeared. Right in front of me. The most beautiful blue I’ve ever seen. Like the sea on Chandrila, but somehow  _ _ more _ _. I can’t explain it. I don’t know what it is or what it means. The light didn’t do anything. It didn’t move to go inside me. It didn’t flicker or flutter or fly.  _

_ It was just  _ _ there _ _. Floating right in front of me until I woke up.  _

_ Like it was there just for me.  _

_ I’m all warm and calm on the inside. And I think… I think I understand what peace feels like now. And maybe this is what I should be feeling when meditating. It’s… it’s weird. And I don’t want to share it with anyone. Not Uncle Luke and somehow not even Snoke.  _

_ It’s like this gift just for me. And I don’t feel scared for the day now. I think maybe I’ll be able to make it through without feeling so alone. _

_ I hope the light comes again.  _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Rey, Qi'ra, and Crimson Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> continued alpha and beta love to madi_solo, Frumpologist, and QuinTalon. All remaining errors are my own here. 
> 
> Trigger warnings: Rey begins this chapter as a mostly abandoned child before being sold into slavery. As it's written from the point of view of a small child, there's nothing too graphic, but please be aware of that. 
> 
> Thank you to all who've read, commented, and given kudos. It means more than I can say! I hope you continue to enjoy as we meet Rey and Qi'ra this chapter.

* * *

Her name is Rey. She’s five-year-old. 

And she doesn’t know why either of those things matter. Why she should know them. 

Her mom doesn’t tell her much, but she makes Rey repeat that at least once every time they’re together. 

Which isn’t a lot. 

Rey is alone in the sand a lot. Cleaning pieces from old broken ships with a big brush for Mommy to take to the Plutt for food. 

She doesn’t cry, though. Not much. Only when it feels like it’s been a long gap between when she's seen her mom and dad. And when her stomach growls so loud she thinks it’ll eat itself—she definitely cries from being hungry. And thirsty. 

And when the wind blows too hard and fast for her to get under a tent or cover her eyes… Rey doesn’t like when sand gets in her eyes. It stings. And really hurts. 

She never knows where her parents go when they leave her to clean pieces.

She asks, though. She asks where they go and asks them to stay. She wishes they would stay. 

But they never do. 

And Rey spends most of her time alone. 

She wishes it were different, though. 

* * *

Not like this. 

This wasn’t what she wanted. 

Not at all. 

“Come back!” Rey screams, yanking against the bony hand that digs into her arm. “Come back, please!  _ Please!”  _

He tightens his hold, and yells at her. “Quiet girl!” 

He yells more things. She catches him talking about a ship, and understands she’s being dragged in the sand—it fills her shoes and is so hot it burns against her skin. 

None of that matters now. 

Her parents are in a ship, and they’re flying away from her. 

They’ve left her. They’re gone; they’re flying away and she’s going to be alone forever. 

“ _ Come back!”  _ she cries again, hoping they’ll somehow hear her. 

Her face is wet and this stranger keeps yanking at her and pulling her along. She tries to worm her way free, but  _ can’t _ . 

She yells and fights until she’s locked in a place that’s cold and hard. 

Rey doesn’t know where she is or what is happening. She’s feeling a lot of things she never has before, and they make her stomach sick. She’s crying when she throws up. She cries again and her cheeks burn when this strange man yells at her and tells her that she better get used to flying, because she’s not leaving this ship for a long time. She forces her tears down to a sniffle as she’s forced to clean her own sick, and holds a hand over her mouth when she’s told to go to sleep afterwards. 

She falls asleep crying in her hand because of two things. One, she’s on a ship, and she’s always dreamed of being on a ship. Of flying away. But then two, she’s all alone. She’s always thought she’d be with her parents when flying away. But she’s not. 

They left her. 

And now she’s all alone. 

And it’s  _ so _ .  _ cold _ . 

Rey is too sad to be ashamed of crying herself to sleep. 

* * *

It’s worse. 

Rey didn’t know it could be worse, but it is. 

She wasn’t simply left; she was  _ sold _ . Like the scrapyard ship pieces she’d clean. 

She’s fed and that’s something. Sand isn’t in her eyes or clothes or hair anymore. She’s taught how to use the ‘freshers in these quarters, because it’s bigger and different from the one she’s used to. 

But…

It’s not easy. 

Rey misses her parents. She sometimes still cries herself to sleep, softly though. So she’s not heard. 

She can’t understand why she’s been bought. Her master—that’s what he said she’s supposed to call him—he wants her to clean and fix up some protocol droids. But the thing is she doesn’t know  _ how _ to clean quarters. Not unless it’s sweeping and dusting away sand. And she tries with the droid bits and pieces. But she doesn’t know if anything’s right. And sometimes the wires shock her. 

He has her follow him around when he goes out and about on the ship. He pauses in the middle of talking and calls her “slave” and claps his hands. Rey’s learned that means he wants her to either fetch him a drink or a plate of food. Or go back to his quarters on the lower deck and retrieve whatever he forgot—which he does a lot. 

_ A lot _ . 

She catches whispers that sound like they are meant to be mean, and she knows they’re always referring to her master. “Neimoidians…” They shake their heads sometimes and roll their eyes. But Rey doesn’t know what that means. 

There are lots of things she has to learn because she doesn’t know what any of it means. And her master laughs at her for it. He laughs and makes her clean things around his quarters over and over until it’s to his liking. 

And she hates it. 

So Rey starts to take things. Little things she doesn’t think will be missed. 

Some working tools she likes and reports as missing after her master has had guests. He snarls and grumbles and orders more. There are the odd rectangle pieces here and there from a pile often left on a large table after a loud night when he’s been “entertaining”—though, she’s no idea what that means either. It involves a great deal of food she never gets to eat, and lots of loud talking, and wild laughter, and that’s all she knows. 

There’s the odd white and blue disc here and there. Rey likes those. They’re pretty. They have something stamped on them and they’re very smooth. Rey  _ really _ likes them. So she takes one here and there. Not too often or too many to be noticed. She’s learned to hide in a room, and she knows how to keep things hidden away that she wants to keep for her very own. 

Time passes, but Rey never knows how much. It’s not easy to tell in space. She just knows that she’s learning things, and eventually there’s less yelling. She still hates this master, this Neimoidian, who took her from her family. Who’s made her all alone. 

But she eventually thinks that it’s been a while since she’s cried at night. 

She wonders if that means anything...

* * *

The door to her master’s quarters hisses open as Rey is cleaning from last night’s ‘entertaining’. She drops everything and jumps, turning to face the door as fast as she can. She’s learned to not keep her back to visitors for long—or anyone, really. 

“Hello,” she says, wiping her hands over her rough trousers. “The master is still asleep. Shall I wake him for you?” 

The woman doesn’t answer right away, and Rey’s not sure how to feel about that. It’s not until several silent heartbeats have gone by and the woman tilts her chin while  _ still _ staring at her that Rey begins to shift on her feet. She squeezes her hands together, rocking back-and-forth on her feet, staring back at the woman. 

She’s very pretty, Rey thinks. Her brown hair is long and pulled back from her face in something Rey thinks looks very clean, while being very, very pretty. Her lips have been painted red, and there’s something on her eyes to make them… scary… Rey decides the woman fixed her face to look very scary today. The all black, flowing clothes she wears adds to the effect. 

“What’s your name?” the woman asks, startling Rey from staring. 

“I’m Rey.” 

The woman blinks. “And how old are you, young Rey?” 

The answer rolls off her tongue easily,  _ so _ easily… “I’m five years—” 

But a lump forms in her throat, and she can’t finish. There are now tears in her eyes, and she’s blinking fast to fight them back. 

“You’re five?”

“I, I… I’m not sure.” Rey’s stuttering and she hates it. She  _ hates _ it _ , _ and she balls her hands into tight fists. She lifts her chin, forcing away the tears. “Mommy taught me I was three, then four, then five, but I don’t...I don’t know how long I’ve…” The lump returns, and she’s wrapping her arms around herself, because it’s the first she’s thought of her mother in what she thinks is a very long time. 

The woman hums, crossing the length of the room to Rey, reaching a very clean,  _ very pretty _ hand out to her, and Rey flinches out of instinct… But the woman gives a soft smile. It’s something friendly looking and calms the racing inside Rey’s chest. Calms it to the point she sinks into the woman’s touch as she touches two fingers under Rey’s chin. 

“Where were you before Puse acquired you?” she asks, her hand dropping to her side. 

“Jakku.” 

“Hmmm.” The woman’s eyes dart around the living quarters. “And you’ve been here all this time.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She looks back to Rey. “You’re six, then. It’s been a year since  _ First Light  _ visited our Inner Rim territories. And you’ve been in the service of your idiotic master in all that time it seems.” 

Rey can’t decide if the woman’s asking a question, or just telling her things. She doesn’t like not knowing; it makes her feel she’s done something wrong. And Rey does  _ not _ like being in the wrong, and all that comes from that. “Would you like some tea, m’am?” She waves a hand in the direction of her master’s sleeping quarters. “He… I don’t know when he’ll be up. But I could get you tea.” 

“Tea would be lovely. Thank you, Rey.” She smiles again and Rey feels warm from the inside out as she darts to the kitchen. 

She’s never been excited to make tea before. But she is now. She works more carefully than she ever has, moving slow enough to not spill water, but fast enough so the pretty and kind woman isn’t waiting. She doesn’t think the woman should have to wait for anything.  _ Ever _ . 

She walks with practiced ease as she carries the tray back to the main living quarters. The woman is sitting on the bright red chaise-lounge, looking over where Puse’s door is, and Rey is bursting to serve her tea. To have the woman’s attention back on  _ her _ . To feel one of those smiles once more... 

There’s a pile of those pretty white and blue discs on the table again. Rey brushes them to the side as she balances the tea tray, thinking nothing of it as she slips three of the discs into her pocket. She thinks three won’t be too much. It’s a large pile, and she’s no idea how her master gained something this large, but three… Three won’t be missed. 

The woman pours her tea and pats the seat beside her, inviting Rey to join her. She even pours a second cup and offers it to Rey, warning Rey it’s hot, and to drink it slowly. And  _ then _ , she goes so far as to talk with Rey a bit. Not a lot, but it’s enough to be more than anyone’s ever just sat and said to Rey in her life—as far as she knows at least. 

She hates when the woman thanks her for the tea and rises to leave. 

“My master should be awake soon,” she tries, just wanting the woman to  _ stay _ … 

“I rather doubt it. He’d have already been up by now.” The woman folds her hands together as she looks back to Rey. “I’m sure someone from the party last night knew I’d be paying him a visit this morning and took precautions to make sure Puse made a bad impression.” 

Rey nods, not understanding half of what the woman just said, but it sounds like her master… 

“I wonder if perhaps you’d like to come with me, Rey.” 

“I… With…? Pardon?” She suddenly can’t breathe, and doesn’t trust what she thinks she’s just heard. 

The woman is smiling again, and going so far as to stoop down to look Rey in the eye. It’s the most amazing thing Rey has even known. Until the woman speaks again. “I came down to visit Puse today to dole out disciplinary action. He works for me, and he’s not very good at what he does. But I think I’d prefer to have you come with me, instead. Would you like to come away from here? To be free of this room and your master?” 

Free. 

_ Free _ . 

Rey can’t believe her ears. 

Her eyes snap to her master’s door, expecting it to hiss open. And for all this to come to nothing…

That doesn’t happen though.

And Rey finds herself nodding. 

“Excellent. Follow me then.” 

The woman presses the button on the keypad and glides out the room, leaving Rey to stumble and dart after her. She doesn’t know what to do with her arms and hands, and it’s silly, but she thinks of her small stash of things in her tiny room back in her master’s quarters as they enter the turbolift together. The woman enters a keycode before selecting a level. It’s a level Rey’s never been to before… Only for important people, as her master had told her before…

“I think it’s best we establish some ground rules first, little Rey.” The woman’s voice is kind, but there’s a firmness to it. Rey nods again, knowing she could never disobey an order from this woman. From the one who’s set her free. The woman blinks once. Twice. “First, my name is Qi’ra and you’re never to call me ‘master’. You are not my slave. But you are mine. I’m taking you as my ward, which means you live on my ship under my protection. And you mind what I say. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” That loud pounding is back in Rey’s chest, and it’s more than she ever dreamed… 

“Second,” the woman— _ Qi’ra _ —continues, “Puse is scum and deserves every time you ever stole from him.” 

Rey’s face bursts into flames, and the discs in her pocket burn as Qi’ra’s gaze focuses on where the discs are hidden away. As if she can see right through the fabric. “I’ll… I’ll have them returned if you—”

“You will not,” Qi’ra interrupts, looking back to the lift door, holding a hand out to Rey. “Calamari Flan are rare and in high demand, and I’m sure you’ve more than earned the small fortune you’ve nicked. Your form is a bit sloppy, but with time and training, I have no doubt you’ll be the most valuable asset in the Crimson Dawn.” The lift comes to a halt and the door slides open as Qi’ra looks back to Rey. “Would you like that, my dear?”

“Yes, ma’am. Very much.”    


Rey takes Qi’ra’s hand and thinks this may be the best and luckiest day ever. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have read and left comments and kudos :)   
> Ben and Rey continue to grow up... and they meet next chapter! I'm so excited to share that with you!   
> For now, I hope you enjoy <3   
> Continued alpha and beta love and thanks to my team: Frumpologist, QuinTalon and madi_solo.

* * *

Rey’s no longer certain being freed from Puse was the best thing to ever happen to her. 

On the one hand, she  _ knows _ it is. 

But then she comes to days like today and she  _ hates _ her life. 

Her protocol droid, AV-D3PO, is holding a datapad, chirping through Rey’s schedule for the day: “And  _ then _ , Mistress Rey, after you complete your lessons, you’ll be sitting with me and we’ll be hosting a practice party together to review silverware and place settings with fine dining, followed by—” 

“I get it Deethree,” Rey snaps, huffing a loud breath at the hair that’s fallen in her eyes. She’ll  _ never  _ master the art of braiding. Not like Qi’ra does. “It’s a long drone day of school and then refinement lessons, and I’m not getting to train today, yeah?” 

“Mistress Rey, I highly object to that tone.” Deethree levels her with a  _ look _ , one that used to make Rey flush with shame at not knowing things, but Rey’s long since moved beyond that. “These are necessary and important lessons, as important as learning to look presentable, and I can see you’ve been neglecting practicing your hair braiding. How can you expect Mistress Qi’ra to throw you a proper birthday party if you persist in being obtuse and complaining over learning what she’s decided you ought to know?” 

Okay,  _ now _ Rey feels the shame. She even hangs her head as she mumbles an apology to the droid. She sinks to the soft, carpeted floor, dropping her hands, letting her attempt of a braid fall loose. “I’ll try harder,” she murmurs, lifting her hands and gathering her brown hair into sections, starting the more advanced braid over again. “Qi’ra didn’t have to host anything for me, you know?” 

“I believe that is the precise reason she is doing it, Mistress Rey. Because she can. The opportunity presented itself to praise your progress and present you as her ward and ensure that that vile Puse never tries to reclaim you as his property again.” 

Rey’s hand stills as she thinks on this, her mouth visibly thinning in the mirror. 

She remembers how cold she used to be falling asleep at night. She remembers how it was crying in her hand until her tears ran dry. She remembers when she would be so tired and her feet ached from work. And how her fingers would tingle for most of the day after being shocked from working on droids and other machinery fixings…

She remembers and thinks how it’s different now. 

Guilt is there as she thinks of how she’s just complained over something like a ‘schedule’. Because, really, while it’s not easy learning just how much there is to learn in the world, Rey prefers  _ this _ to anything she’s known before. Qi’ra’s hired private tutors for her to learn to write and even read. She’s learning maths and histories across the galaxies. She’s learning binary and several other languages. She’s learning how to kick, punch, and use a staff as a weapon. And who cares if things like what-fork-goes-with-which course, how to braid hair, how to pair a shirt with slacks, and how to properly bathe and wash hair are thrown in there, too? 

With all this in mind, Rey completes her braid, ties it off, and rises to begin her day. 

* * *

“Did you enjoy the party, my desert flower?” 

A week has passed and Rey’s honestly  _ so done _ with the day. The party was long, and she wasn’t sure what to expect—she’s never been invited to one of Qi’ra’s gatherings before. But she’s decided it was long and… well,  _ boring _ . 

Not that Rey’s about to admit that to Qi’ra. 

“It was very nice,” she answers, forcing a bright smile. 

Maybe a bit too bright, because Qi’ra gives a soft laugh and shakes her head. “I know it wasn’t quite what you would have most enjoyed, and you were by far the youngest in attendance, but perhaps the food was to your satisfaction?” 

“Oh yes!” Rey nods as hard and as fast as she can. She always loves the food. “And the cake—I don’t know where that was from, but I really,  _ really _ liked the cake!” 

Qi’ra smiles too, and moves to settle on the bed behind Rey. “Such a sweet thing you are, desert flower. I’ve recently hired a chef who’s a retired pirate from Hapan barges. I’ve no idea how he escaped or left that system behind, but he’s a remarkable talent, and we’re quite lucky to have him.” 

Rey’s mind is all abuzz, taking in everything Qi’ra’s just shared. There’s warmth from Qi’ra’s pet name for her—Rey absolutely loves it. She delights in thinking of herself as belonging because she’s wanted. Just for herself. And she likes thinking of herself as a desert flower—something rare and special. She loves when Qi’ra shares with her on the inner workings of this ship—this massive barge. And she loves when something new is shared and it tickles her interest. 

“The Hapan System?” Rey rubs taps her chin as Qi’ra begins brushing her hair. “They’re a star cluster, aren’t they? Surrounded by some sort of mist, and their Queen Mother sealed their borders off long ago, right?” 

“That’s right.” Qi’ra hums and the approval is a warm blanket over Rey’s heart. “They’re still fairly isolated and very rarely make contact with the rest of the galaxy. I’ve yet to ask Kraig how exactly he’s managed to work with or for Hapan pirates and then leave that… Or escape it, but everyone’s entitled to their own secrets and past.” 

A frown tugs at Rey’s lips. That doesn’t sound quite like the Qi’ra she’s come to know. 

Qi’ra looks up from her work on Rey’s hair and laughs at their reflection. “Why so serious, child?” 

“You don’t like secrets. I know you don’t.” 

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s not entirely true.” She bends and twists around Rey, their eyes now even, and Rey’s able to see something mysterious in the depths of Qi’ra’s brown eyes. It makes her shudder. Qi’ra continues, explaining: “I don’t like secrets I don’t know. If there’s a secret that can be learned, it can be used for a great deal of good in my favor. But only if everything is right for it to be known.” 

Rey bites down on her lip, thinking hard. “So… He’s....he’s being watched, then?” 

“In a way. This is my ship and all of the Crimson Dawn is my domain. I have loyal eyes and ears everywhere and know whom to call on when I need something I may not yet know for myself. But everyone feels more at ease when not being pestered and forced to tell things they’d rather not. They’re far more apt to share secrets with a friend. And I make a point to watch closely, and have a great many friends.” 

“Am I one of your friends, Qi’ra?” 

She regrets the question as soon as she asks. It makes her feel weak and needy. Like she’s a wilting plant that’s thirsty for water or desperate for the sun. 

“Of course you are, my Rey.” Qi’ra takes Rey’s chin in her hand, cradling it, forcing Rey to meet her eyes again. “In fact, you may be one of the most important friends I have.” 

“Really?” It’s a dream. This has to all be a dream. Or something wonderful out of a holobook she reads. “I… I am?” 

“Certainly.” Qi’ra hand moves up to cup Rey’s cheek. “No one will ever suspect anything from a child. Nothing at all. They expect you to be shy and stupid. They expect you to be slow and defenseless—but you’re none of those things. Not a single one. You defy all the odds against you, and you’ve fought to survive. You’re a fighter and a winner, my desert flower. And you’ll do me the most good of anyone yet. I truly believe that.” 

“Oh…” Rey can’t think of a response. Nothing comes. She’s breathing hard and feels… happy, she thinks. So very happy… 

And yet… 

Something’s off in what Qi’ra’s said. 

It’s not quite as she wanted to hear. 

But she shoves that thought aside, not listening to it any more. 

Because Qi’ra freed her. She’s given Rey everything she could have wanted and more. She’s taken her in and made her special. She trusts her to be her eyes and ears when she’s not around. She brushes Rey’s hair and talks with her long into the night, like Rey imagines mothers do with their daughters on other worlds. Worlds that aren’t Jakku, where nothing good exists. She protected Rey when Puse came to demand her return... 

Rey admits to herself it’s a little scary to know the depths of power one person can wield, how much Qi’ra owns and is hers to command. It’s oddly comforting, too. And Rey’s very thankful she’s on Qi’ra’s side. 

* * *

_ “One, two, three, duck! One, two, turn! One, two, duck! One, two, three, turn! And again: one, two, three, duck! Good. Very good.”  _ The man in the blue-tinted holo offers a roguish looking smile as he folds his arms over his chest.  _ “I know it may not feel like much, but you’re doing something big here. Over time and practice, you’ll have trained your muscles to—” _

“Again with the holos, Solo?”

Ben swears harshly under his breath, a string that would make Han proud, switching off the training holo. “What do you want, Tai?” 

The youth merely laughs and plops down on the floor next to Ben, stretching out his legs, leaning back on his hands. “Surely you’ve watched every last training holo a thousand times by now. Why do you keep at it? They never change. And it’s nothing we haven’t already moved beyond.”

“Because it’s history,” Ben answers evenly, silently counting down from twenty. Tai’s not really paying attention to him anyways; he’s not here to make real conversation. Case in point, Ben’s fellow student had already closed his eyes as his neck craned out to the sun, his bald head glinted in the afternoon rays… And,  _ honestly _ , Ben finds it exhausting having to explain himself over every. little. thing... Still, he tries. “It’s history that  _ we _ , the new generation of Jedi, should study, learn from and be familiar with. Besides that, these are all I have left of my grandfather.” His fingers curl around the holo as he brings it closer, eyes intent on the disc, wishing his interrupter would take a hint and  _ leave _ . 

“Does it ever weird you out that they’re all dead?” 

_ Maker help him... _ Tai never was bright enough for subtlety... “Using that logic, we should only remember the past as long as its members are alive and with us.” Ben’s not remotely guilty of the bite in his response. 

“I don’t mean that. I just meant nothing changes with it. They’re still gone. They still lost because they messed up somehow and we’re starting over where they failed. We’re the generation that’ll succeed.” 

Ben isn't so sure, but he surrenders to humor Tai. “So wouldn’t it make sense to learn their mistakes? To ensure they don’t happen again?” 

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying, Ben.” Tai’s sitting upright now, looking right at Ben and gesturing with his hands. “You act like you’re all alone in the galaxy sometimes, but you’re not. I can’t figure out why you think you are. Your uncle is our master. Lor San Tekka treats you as the grandson he never had. Your parents holo message you, and I mean, just look at your birthday present last—” 

“What of it, Tai?” Ben winces. He doesn’t mean to snap. He  _ really _ doesn’t. It’s just… 

“Nothing.” Tai blinks at him, not speaking for several moments, and Ben lowers the holo in his hand to the ground if only for something to do… until Tai finally breaks the uncomfortable silence. “The  _ Grimtaash _ is a fine ship. A real beauty in my opinion. But then again, you always know ships better than me.” 

“She is good,” Ben murmurs, picking at something on his trousers. “Mom kept the log open for me to name her when she came and dropped it off last year.” 

“You didn’t tell me that.” Tai’s tone takes a softer, less teasing turn, and Ben feels a wave of compassion from his friend through the Force. “Why Grimtaash then? I thought it was just a piece on the Derjarik board.” 

“Not just that…” Ben stares down at the holo, lifting it through the Force, making it dance and twirl in front of him. “It comes from Alderaanian myth. The Grimtaash was meant to protect the royal house from traitors. Mom bought the ship here saying I couldn’t demand my right to the throne as she had, but I could at least demand my right to a ship.” 

Tai snorts, shaking his head. “That’s… Sorry, Ben. I’m not poking fun. That’s just a more dramatic conversation than I imagined happening.”

The holo drops to Ben’s lap as his eyes snap to Tai’s. “Than you  _ imagined?! _ ” 

“Well, sure. We all saw the two ships come into the landing pad. Then Master Skywalker pulls you aside and what else are we supposed to do? Pretend nothing’s happening?” 

Ben bites back his first response with what they all  _ should _ have done. What he’d kindly request they  _ all _ do the next time his family drama is the center of the Temple’s attention. He lifts the holo with unseen hands again, bouncing it high above him and Tai, around and around an invisible obstacle course in his mind. 

“Aw, come on Ben, don’t be like that.” Tai finally,  _ finally _ seems to get it through his thick skull just how irritating he is… But maybe not, because he claps Ben on the shoulder, and Ben hasn’t liked that for several years now. (It’s how Dad said goodbye to him the last they saw each other, but that was four years ago, and Ben’s not thinking of that right now; he’s not letting that cloud his day any more than Tai already is.) Tai adds, “It’s not much happening here when it’s just us. We can’t talk lessons all the time. We need something for a bit of fun, yeah?” 

“Sure.” 

“And that’s a  _ very  _ fine ship… With what I’ve learned is a  _ very  _ traditional name, Your Royal  _ Highness _ .” 

Ben rolls his eyes, giving an indignant huff and he throws the holo with all his strength… “Your Highness would suffice Tai.” He reaches out in the Force… watching the holo fly, fly, fly… “No need to get all formal on me when I’m the prince of an obliterated planet.” He stops the holo in midair, sending it flying back to him. Not even wincing as it crashes into his waiting hand. He blinks back at Tai. “If you wanna take some gossip back to Hennix and Voe, you can look up the Day of Demand on Alderaan for yourselves. Can’t have you all getting lazy and sloppy and let your minds go to mush before we’re about to sit for our next set of exams, can I?” 

Ben lets his lips curl into a sneer. It’s barely there, but enough for Tai to swear and lift himself from the ground. “You know you’re a real prick sometimes, Solo? And just as philosophical as Voe accuses you of.” 

“Happy to let Voe be right about something for once,” Ben throws back, giving Tai a two-fingered salute. 

Tai makes a vulgar gesture back at him, which Ben receives with a bitter chuckle. He just really can’t believe how quick a day can turn sometimes. It’s honestly ridiculous, and what he wouldn’t give for just a moment’s peace around here. 

His mental shields are down and a voice strokes against the fringes of his mind, “ _ They don’t understand you, do they, young Solo?”  _ it asks.

Ben’s jaw clenches, and he snaps back. “ _ No. But it’s better than nothing. Which is what I’d have at home.”  _

“ _ Home? On Chandrila? _ ” Snoke laughs, and Ben wants to punch something. Hard. Very hard. Snoke prods further, “ _ Was that ever a home to you? Have you ever truly felt at home?”  _

The holo falls to Ben’s lap, and it’s enough for him to shove Snoke from his head, slamming the doors of his mind. Locking them tight. He doesn’t want Snoke to see the blue light. Isn’t ready for anyone to know about the light that visits him in his dreams still. 

Not often. Just enough for Ben to have a sense of what home should be. How it’s supposed to feel, he thinks. Like something precious and special. Like he belongs. 

And he’s not ready for whatever the blue light is, or means, to be stolen from him yet.

* * *

Ben hates being seventeen. He really and truly  _ hates _ it.    
  
Nevermind that Tai seems to think they’ve had a true bonding experience with their recent conversation and doesn’t want to let Ben alone for more than half an hour at a time during the day. Nevermind that the bald moof milker wants to  _ talk _ and  _ talk _ and  _ talk _ . And that Ben’s nightmares have haunted him with a vengeance for weeks on end and he’s so tired when Tai wakes him. 

So. Tired. 

Mentally drained and spent before the day has even begun from running and hiding and fighting dark, faceless shadows all night long…

Only to bury it all under the mask of model student and act as if everything is simply all well and fine. 

Only everything’s  _ not _ all well and fine. In fact, it’s all wrong. Everything’s long and lumbering and he just can _ not _ get his forms right. He’s constantly tripping over his own feet no matter how loud he shouts at his own limbs in his mind, they just  _ won’t do. _

It’s simply the  _ worst _ .

He’s not used to not being the best. To not being the fastest and strongest and most powerful opponent in sparring. To having the concentration of his ten-year-old self again when trying to meditate. To having more anger than he knows what to do with on a constant simmer under his skin… and being wary of the tiniest of things to send said anger to a bubbling boil…

To be so in need of just  _ hitting _ something. 

_ Anything.  _

Ben honestly thinks he’d start a fight with Chewie if only to deliver some solid blows that would amount to nothing—because it’s a Wookie, and one simply does not win a fight with a Wookie— and would leave him exhausted to the point of mindlessness. 

Tai and Hennix stopped growing more a year ago, and they’re more than used to just how big their hands and feet are now. He hates comparing his limbs to his peers. He hates comparing  _ everything  _ to his peers. His nose is now to the point it’s too large for his face, and he’s always sported longer hair, but now he finds it needs to be that much longer because… his ears…

_ Ears. _

He’d caught his reflection in the mirror several months back and decided his ears had become too large for his face overnight, and therefore, his hair now needs to be longer. And this length of hair is so frustrating. It’s hard to clean every day, and it’s constantly sweeping it out of his eyes with one of his animal paw hands… and then it just drips with sweat day in and out… and…  _ and _ …

_ Kriff.  _

It’s all a mess and his temples are throbbing and he’s not sure why he’s even attempting to meditate this morning. He’s not focusing, not clearing his mind. The darkness within is roiling from its triumph over him in his nightmares last night, and he just  _ can’t _ —

“You look tired.” Master Skywalker’s soft voice cuts through Ben’s tension as a serrated knife, sharp and jagged. 

Ben’s face twists into a scowl. “I wasn’t aware it was a requirement for meditation to look the part of a well rested padawan, Master.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“The sun’s hardly up yet, and here I am, awake and meditating after that long trail run yesterday.” Ben hopes his tone is dismissive enough to have his master leave him in peace… And yet… He loosens a short breath, sleep deprivation making him vulnerable to the simplest of kindnesses. “I’m just tired, Master. I haven’t slept well recently.” 

“Ah.” 

Ben doesn’t open his eyes, but he can hear his master joining him in a seated position on the ground. Can feel his master’s open and prodding presence. He’s here for answers, and isn’t leaving without some.

Master Skywalker wastes no time: “You’ve seemed on edge as of late, Ben. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s troubling you.” He pauses, letting the words sink in, but all they serve to do is make Ben growl and his fists clench tighter. His master presses on: “I know it’s challenging; growing that is. You’re… well, I’m stumped at the height you’ve reached. You’ve surpassed Han and myself, and it’ll take your body time to get used to everything. To have an adequate handle on itself. You must be patient with yourself, Ben.” 

Ben gives a non-committal hum, still declining to open his eyes. Throwing himself further into reaching out… and  _ kriffing letting go _ …

“And I’m sure there’s the obvious hormonal transition you’ve been experiencing—”

“ _ WHAT?! _ ” His eyes snap open, brows shooting into his hairline. 

Master Skywalker appears unfazed, sitting and blinking at Ben. “It’s perfectly natural. Your body is changing; maturing in every way—”

“No!” 

“— _ feeling _ lots of new feelings—”

“NOT listening!” Ben throws his hands over his hair and ears.

“You  _ may _ even find yourself experiencing very visible reactions and waking up with—”

“Stop, stop,  _ stop! _ ” Ben’s on his feet now, voice desperate. “Maker, I’ve already heard all about this from Lando before I ever came to the temple, and then Dad pulled me aside his last visit four years ago.” He shuddered. “Consider me more than adequately informed on the changes an adolescent male humanoid body will experience.” 

“Very well.” Master Skywalker chuckles, shaking his head and muttering something to himself. His eyes lift back to Ben’s, blue and piercing. “Perhaps there’s something else you’d like us to discuss, then? Something I can do to help you out, Ben…?”   
  


“No.” 

The answer’s automatic, sliding past his lips before he even thinks about it. The refusal for help is second nature by now. And to keeping his secrets  _ his _ . He’s used to not sharing personal information that comes from the depths of himself—trivial facts with Tai are one thing. Things like his nightmares and Snoke, though… 

Even the blue light…

The light gives him reason for pause. He’s actually given a great deal of thought if he should tell his master about that. If maybe he’d have any ideas for Ben as to what it could mean. Where they should even begin to look for answers… Perhaps it would be nice to be free of the weight of his secrets… from the burden of all he feels he can never tell…

The dark strokes his mind. “ _ He’ll never understand. Skywalker will only alert your mother. Or Han Solo. Do you want the disappointment of them  _ **_not_ ** _ coming if Skywalker asks them to? Or if  _ **_you_ ** _ ask them to…?”  _

A lump made of years of hurt, anger, and disappointment forms in Ben’s throat and he gives a thick swallow. Master Skywalker’s stare doesn’t waver as he tilts his head. As if he’s trying to peer through the door into Ben’s mind… Ben doubles down on his mental shields and shakes his head. 

“No, Master Skywalker.” He swallows again, his fingers balling into a fist. “I’ll try harder, sir.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless and boundless love to my beautiful alpha and beta team: Frumpologist, madi_solo and QuinTalon. All remaining errors are my own.   
> I'm always blown away and thankful beyond all measure whenever someone reads and leaves a review, and thank you so much for being here!! 
> 
> REY AND BEN MEET THIS CHAPTER AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!!

* * *

“I’m going in.”

“No.” 

“Yes!”

Large, black, unblinking eyes bore into Rey. “No,” Chideelo repeated in Rodian. Harsher. Firmer. “You will only get in the way of the negotiating, and I’ll have to explain that to Qi’ra.” 

Rey sticks her chin out, bringing her hands to her hips. “Qi’ra wanted me along on this assignment to  _ learn _ . I’m not going to learn anything if I’m stuck outside with a datapad.” 

The Rodian gives a hissing laugh. “Of course you will.” He waves to the wall of the cantina, already side-stepping for the entrance. “You can use that datapad to memorize more useless facts about the—”

“They’re  _ not _ useless, Chideelo! It helps to be prepared, and besides Qi’ra—”

“Isn’t here, kid!” The reptilian humanoid points to the side of the building, using his other hand to pat the blaster resting at his hips. His green scales glinted in the bright afternoon sun. “You stay there. And you don’t move until I come back out.” 

Rey inhales sharply, glaring harder before stomping over to where he’d pointed. The Rodian mutters something about  _ finally _ under his breath, swearing too fast for Rey to catch all the words before ducking into the cantina. “Useless facts… ugh!” She growls, tucking her booted feet under her legs. “I’ll show him.” 

Exactly how Rey plans on ‘showing him’, she’s not sure yet. She  _ does _ plan on telling Qi’ra that she was told to wait outside and not listen in on any of the negotiations with the pirates, but that could also work out in Chideelo’s favor. He could always throw back excuses like ‘no children allowed’, or ‘Rey was hungry’, or ‘it would look bad’, or worse still, ‘my mission, my decision’, and face whatever consequences waited for him. 

And Chileedo obviously doesn’t think much about whatever consequences  _ could _ await him…

Rey huffs and glares down at the datapad in her lap, cogs whirring and sparking in her head… 

Think… think…  _ think _ …

“Nothing,” she finally sighs, her head falling back into the cantina wall. “Absolutely nothing.” She’s nine-years-old, and even she had questioned Qi’ra on the usefulness of sending her with Chileedo to meet with a potentially new pirate contact on Lothal. 

“ _ The pirates will take one look at me and laugh at the Crimson Dawn for letting children handle their business,”  _ she’d told Qi’ra. She’d practically burst with pride as Qi’ra’d answered with a sort of approving hum as she continued with Rey’s braid. It’d emboldened Rey to push just a little harder. “ _ I won’t have anything different to report back to you. We’ll either have a new pirate working under us, or we won’t. Chileedo’s not clever enough to try for any side deals of his own.”  _

“ _ Right you are, desert flower. About all of it, and yet, I’m sending you along still. This is the perfect opportunity to practice your Rodian, and besides, you’ve never been to Lothal. I’ll expect a full report on the planet, its history since the Clone Wars, its industry and economy when you get back. _ ” Rey had sighed while Qi’ra chuckled and tied off Rey’s braid. “ _ No getting out of it; I’ve already given the assignment to your tutor. _ ” 

And that’s that, Rey decides. Qi’ra never truly expected Rey to sit in on the actual negotiations. This is all part of some grander life lesson. Like when to pick your battles. And knowing the difference between when to do as you’re told and when to trust your instincts. And learning to be seen and known as something smaller and weaker than your opponent realizes… 

Know when to allow yourself to be underestimated, and when to unleash your full potential. 

Rey decides here and now that when they’re back with Qi’ra on the  _ First Light _ she’s going to be calm and rational as Chileedo reports back. She’s not going to fight and argue as she just did. If she’s calm and truthful, maybe there’ll be some punishment for Chileedo after all. He should have trusted if Qi’ra sent Rey along, it would have been for a specific purpose. It’s his fault he disobeyed orders…

A satisfied smile tugs at Rey’s lips. She stretches out her legs and focuses on the datapad in her lap. Switching it on, she finds where she left off in the local records of the planet during the years of the Galactic Empire. It truthfully was probably more interesting than any negotiation discussion happening inside without her—she’s just gotten to records of a rebel cell that’d begun right here on Lothal. One of their leaders had apparently been a Jedi Knight, and the other, a Twi’lek, sounded a bold and daring pilot. 

So Rey read and read, getting so caught up in stories of the past that she didn’t notice him approach until his shadow already loomed over her…

* * *

Lothal has been a waste of time, just as Ben had said it would be.

But Master Skywalker rarely listens to Ben, and Ben, for the life of him, can’t figure out  _ why _ . It’s not as if he’s a history of running headfirst into trouble without deep consideration of the consequences like his dad… or mouth off to people who outrank him on the hierarchy of life roles as his mother was prone to do…

_ Oh, wait… _

So Ben’s left with nothing to do but sigh and bemoan his life choices for leading Master Skywalker to the conclusion that Ben’s counsel should never be taken into consideration, and follow the middle-aged Jedi on a wild bantha chase around an entire planet. 

That’s right.  _ Planet _ . 

Because it’s not enough to thoroughly  _ search _ the empty space where a Jedi temple once stood on Lothal. It’s not enough for Master and Apprentice to reach out in the Force to  _ feel _ that the Temple is still  _ there _ … it’s just… hidden. Concealed somehow. Locked from sight and discovery. And days and days of thinking, theorizing, and trying lead to nothing. 

Which is how Apprentice Ben Solo and Master Luke Skywalker have come to visit every last library and knock on more doors and talk to more beings—sentients and droids—than Ben really ever has in his entire life before now. It’s all come to nothing. They can’t find anyone who knew anything about the existence of a temple, let alone official records of what happened to cause it to hide. 

Yet for whatever reason, Master Skywalker  _ insists  _ their time on the planet has not yet reached its conclusion; the Force hasn’t released them. 

And Ben… Frankly, he’s too frustrated with the whole trip to venture his opinion one way or another at this point. He just grits his teeth and continues to follow his master around. Even to seedy cantinas to feel and ask around. To see if anyone knows anyone who saw or knew anything about what may or may not have happened at the temple site. Ben would like to have it firm in his mind again that he thinks this is a waste of time, so he can focus on eloquent ways of articulating this in his journal once he’s back in his hut.

“You know I’ve sensed your disapproval since day two on Lothal, right Ben?” Master Skywalker’s voice is as calm as ever, but there’s that omniscient ring in the undertone that rubs Ben the wrong way. 

“Not at all, Master Skywalker.” 

“Ben.” 

“In fact, I can’t think of a single thing I’d rather be doing.” 

His tone is clipped and there’s a heavy sigh in response. 

“ _ Ben _ …” 

The padawan clenches his hand into a fist, weaving through the throng of the market, hoping to gain a lead over his master. 

“Ben!”

He groans and slows; that hope was apparently in vain. 

“I’m here, Master,” he says evenly, now looking his master in the eye… Which by now means he’s literally  _ looking down at Master Skywalker _ —he’s towered over most everyone, minus the occasional Wookie, for two years now, it’s intimidating to most. Not Master Skywalker, though. Never Master Skywalker. Ben will forever be the nervous youngling from nine years ago; or worse yet, a toddler running from his nanny droid, buck naked with toy X-wings in his grubby little hands. He doesn’t know which is worse. His fist tightens in his brown leather gloves. “I haven’t argued or debated or requested a committee to discuss the merits of still searching for just one being who’ll know something. Can we just… get on with it…?” 

“Ben.” Master Skywalker isn’t letting this go that easily it seems. His piercing blue eyes dart in the direction of their target: the cantina. “Whatever you may think, none of this is a test of patience or will. There’s something about this planet—this  _ city _ . I can feel it. We’re meant to be here today.” He shrugs and sets off towards the cantina again, presuming Ben will just  _ follow along _ (because Ben’s always follows behind). “Maybe there’s a storm trooper who never reported back to his squadron who’s been hiding out in plain sight in the market spaces. Or a local who’d been forced into labor for the Empire… I don’t know. But I can’t shake that we’re meant to be  _ here _ .  _ Today _ .” 

So that’s that, then. They keep walking, the crowds thinning the closer they get to the cantina, the buzz of the market settling to a low hum and Ben breathes just a little easier. He doesn’t care much for crowds. He still  _ feels _ too much when he’s nearing his limit of patience, and Snoke’s been laughing and taunting for days now. It’s honestly hard being Ben, shouldering the legacy of his family and name. Trying so hard to live up to it all. To constantly exist behind the mask of Padawan Ben Solo that’s eager to please everyone more than—

Something, _someone_ rather, catches his eye and he does a double take. 

It’s a child. Propped against the outer wall of the cantina, a datapad propped in her lap and she seems to be reading. Her brown hair has been gathered in a simple braid, and it’s easy for Ben to think she’s the child of any one of the vendors. And yet… the question begs to be asked as to why she wouldn’t be near her family stall… 

“You go on in, Master,” he hears himself say. “I want to make sure all is well out here.” 

All right. That’s what he’s decidedly doing. Great. Ben’s really not sure what’s happening. Except that for the first time in all his nineteen years, he has this overwhelming sense of what he should do in a situation.  _ Stay _ . Every midichlorian within his body shouts as one:  _ Stay.  _ The Force is all around him, and this child, and it’s… much stronger and more intense than sensing Tai, his mother, or even Master Skywalker… 

The Force is with him and… it’s…  _ everywhere _ . Gripping, colliding, overpowering. 

His master doesn’t say anything as he continues on inside the cantina, but maybe he senses it, too.

Because how could he  _ not _ ?

Ben takes a step in her direction, hesitant because he realizes he’s a stranger and nobody to her, and  _ kriff _ . His height alone could have her jumping up and running to her parents any second now, not to to mention the lightsaber at his hip, and then—

“I’d move along if I were you.” 

“Huh?” Ben’s so caught off-guard that she speaks first, without even giving him a passing glance, that’s literally the only thing his brain sends to his mouth by way of response. 

The girl’s mouth curls into a crooked smile. “Move along,” she repeats, still not looking up from her reading. “You’re standing there like you’re deciding how to best kidnap me and hold me for ransom and I can tell you now that wouldn’t end well for you. It’s in your best interest to move along.” 

“Oh…” Well now Ben’s stunned, confused, startled, and completely thrown off. She talks far too old for what he imagines her age is… And then there’s this tangled web of the Force gnarling around her. And inside her. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before, and he starts to wonder if maybe  _ this _ is why they were mean to come to Lothal after all… “Wait, no. That’s not it.” He shakes his head, raising his palms as a sign of good faith. “Nothing like that at all. I was just wondering if you’re out here all alone.” 

“No.” 

He looks around, finding no one in immediate sight as part of her party. “Is someone in your family one of the vendors?” 

“No.” 

“Do you often come here alone to read?” 

“No.” 

_ Now _ he’s starting to grow weary of this. “Are you going to answer any of my questions?” 

The girl’s eyes narrow and she squares her shoulders. “I am. You’re the moof-milker not asking the right questions.” 

“Fine.” He huffs and shrugs. “Are you waiting for someone out here?” 

“Yes.” 

Her lips quirk with a smile. It’s faint, but there. A wave of something teasing and laughing follows, pushing against him in the Force, and her response now feels as a reward of sorts. Like she’s not used to giving such expressions, and that’s something Ben can relate to...    
  
He catches himself, deciding he must be projecting. 

“Do you mind if I sit with you, then? Since we’re both in the position of waiting.” 

“You don’t need to go inside? I’m sure your friend is wondering where you are.” Her hazel eyes narrow at him, but he doesn’t sense fear. Only caution.    
  
Ben makes an airy gesture at the entry-way behind him now. “My master can handle himself well enough.” 

“Oh.” She lets the datapad slide from her lap entirely. Everything about her softens and opens, and the Force itself, previously all twisted and knotted, softens into a pattern. A song. A wave. Compassion. Kindness. Understanding. “You’re—you’re a slave?” 

“What—no!” His eyes blow wide and he falls to the ground, crossing his legs, shaking his head again. “He’s not a master like that. I’m a Jedi padawan, and my teacher is my master.” 

“Oh. I see” Her cheeks are flushed now, and she busies herself picking up and checking on her datapad. So much so that he can’t help but wonder… Her throat bobs and her smile appears a bit forced as she meets his eye this time. “Well if you’re going to sit,” she says, “you may as well tell me your name.” 

“Ben.” He stretches out his hand to her. “I’m Ben.” 

“I’m Rey,” she answers, accepting the offer and shaking his hand. 

* * *

Rey’s confused. More than confused. She’d given him her best impression of fearless Qi’ra and still this man-child won’t go away—and, yes. That’s what she decides he must be. He’s as tall as one of the befor stalls, but something in the looks he’s given her… it’s like he’s still just a child. Faking having it all together. 

Just like her. 

_ But wait _ … 

“I thought the Jedi were all gone? That they were all just a myth?” 

She watches as he grimaces. “Not gone anymore. And  _ definitely _ no. Not even close to the things of myths and stories of old.” 

“Oh.” Well, this is a little disappointing. If she’s going to meet a real life Jedi he might as well be like— “Wait, so you’re not going around the galaxy doing vigilante-type acts of good against evil?” He makes a face at her that she takes to mean ‘no’ again, and she’s not sure what to ask next. “Do you at least carry a lightsaber thing? Can you… I dunno, make things float?” 

“Ah…” 

He unclips something from his belt, it’s long and metallic looking and there’s a grip looking part in the middle of it. It’s a funny looking sort of thing, compiled of parts, Rey’s very curious. The scavenger and slave girl who was ordered to fix droids of several years ago kicks in, and she’s about to lean closer to study the thing when he begins to make it float. 

_ Float.  _

In mid-air. 

And this man child— _ Ben _ —doesn’t stop there. He makes it spin and twirl and dance in the space between them. Beautiful and graceful and full of purpose. The movements remind her of Qi’ra, and she couldn’t look away even if Chideelo came out now...

“Wow.” The exclamation is out her mouth before she realizes it, and she bites down on her lip the moment she does. Fascination and excitement were forms of weakness with strangers. She can  _ hear _ Qi’ra’s voice in her mind and it jerks her back to reality. Out of her land of dreams and wishes. 

She clears her throat. “That’s a cool trick,” she says, hoping he won’t notice she’s scooting.  _ Just enough _ to create that much more space… The lightsaber drops to the ground and he’s almost frowning at her. It makes her frown right back. “What?” 

“You’re afraid now,” he says, head tilting. “You weren’t before when you told me to go away. When you all but threatened someone you thought could be a kidnapper, but now you’re afraid.” 

“I am  _ not _ .” She’s fighting to keep the flames from her cheeks, and feels both hands ball into white-hot fists. “You’re distracting me from my work with a petty circus mind act. I suppose you’re going to tell me next that guy you’re with is Luke Skywalker.”

“He is.” Ben huffs something she thinks  _ could be _ a snort, but it’s too fast for her to tell. Besides, then he starts to smirk, and it makes him really look younger now. Like she’s arguing with someone just a few years older than herself, and not someone as big as a door. “And you’re the one who asked if I could make things float. And you are afraid now—why?”

“Get out of my head!” She’s on her feet now, the datapad falling to the ground, landing with a loud ‘thud”. 

Ben’s there with his… whatever it is that he’s doing before her. He’s lifting it up with invisible type hands and brushing the dust off of it and floating it to her. Rey takes hold of it and it shouldn’t be so hard to breathe. It  _ shouldn’t _ , but it  _ is _ . Because she’s never seen anything like it outside of a performance Qi’ra has hired. And because it’s something so… kind… Yeah, that’s the word she’s thinking of. It’s a simple act of kindness, but no one outside of Qi’ra has ever gone and done something kind just because before. 

Not to her and for her at least. 

“I’m not inside your head, Rey,” Ben whispers, his eyes serious and unblinking. As if he needs for her to believe him. “And I’m sorry if I frightened you. I saw you outside before we went in, and I just had a feeling that I was supposed to talk to you. Which anyone who knows me could tell you is very odd for me. I don’t talk a lot.” 

“I bet that’s not true.” The words fly out of Rey’s mouth again and she doesn’t know what’s come over her. She doesn’t tease or poke fun at anyone outside of Qi’ra and her droids, but this man-child stranger… She feels she can trust him. That he wouldn’t hurt her. She just  _ feels _ it. She lifts her chin like she’s seen Qi’ra do a thousand times when she has the upper hand. “I bet you’d talk quite a lot, actually. When you have something to talk about and someone to listen.” 

It’s a flash, there and then gone before Rey blinks twice, but she knows, she  _ knows _ , she caught something sad wash over his face. And it’s the strangest, but it’s like she could feel it, too. A sadness that went down deep, that’s come from years and years of hurt… Instinct wants her to revolt and fight back that he’s digging down into  _ her _ . That he’s finding her past and using it against her, but she knows that’s a lie.

That sadness of being thrown away, of being not wanted, he’d known it, too. Whoever this Jedi padawan, tall-and-wide-as-a-door, man child person is, he’s felt what she’s felt.  _ Still _ feels. 

It makes her want to say  _ something _ . Anything to let him know he’s not alone in the galaxy—

“Hey!” Chideelo suddenly yells, his blaster already in his hand. “Away from the kid.” 

Ben turns and scrambles to his feet, his lightsaber in his hand. His other hand is out like he’s crouching into some sort of protective stance, and Rey thinks it’s odd, until it clicks that he’s blocking Chideelo from  _ her _ . That he’s stepping in to protect  _ her _ . A child he’d just met. 

It’s stupid. It’s brave. And it makes Rey feel very happy she’s met Ben. To know a stupid sort of selfless kindess exists in the galaxy. 

“You can put the blaster away, Chideelo,” she says, moving around Ben. “He’s not going to hurt me. Are you done?” 

“We’re done.” The Rodian doesn’t lower his blaster and he doesn’t look away from Ben. “Let’s go kid.” 

“Right.” She looks back, plastering a practiced smile on her face. Not one of the real ones she’d given him earlier, but one that Chideelo wouldn’t think twice about and decide Ben needed to be shot  _ just because _ . “Nice meeting you, Ben.” 

Chideelo’s blaster is still aimed at Ben as they start walking away. Something clenches and saddens inside of her—

“Nice meeting you, too,” he calls out.

She doesn’t react. Doesn’t smile, doesn’t even flinch. But all of her is immediately lighter and happy. Maybe this is what making a friend feels like…

“Stupid girl,” Chideelo hisses in Rodian, following that up with a few other choice words Rey decides not to translate. “Why were you even talking to him?”

“You left me outside easily enough,” Rey sniffs, a mask of not caring, not feeling at all, falling into place. “Surprised you even cared if something had happened to me.” 

“I don’t.” Chideelo makes a scoffing sort of sound, dropping his arm, but keeping his blaster out. Ready to fire. “But Qi’ra would. She’d have my head for it, but only after she’d made me pay her every last credit and had all my friends shot before my eyes.” 

Rey doesn’t say anything to that. Because she knows it’s true, and yet… it doesn’t please her like it would have before. Before she’d encountered Ben. It makes a cold fear curl inside her that she hadn’t felt before with Qi’ra… 

And she’s so distracted trying to figure out  _ why _ , she doesn’t notice when the speeder makes a funny sort of sound as Chideelo tries to start it up… 

But by then it’s too late. 

There’s a burst of red and orange light, a loud sound, and a blinding pain to her head…

And then everything goes black. 

* * *

“ _ REY! _ ”

Ben’s yelling and running towards the wreckage, hoping and praying to the Force and any deity he’s ever heard of that his shield was enough. That he was strong enough to protect her from damage like that. 

He’d hated the Rodian the moment he’d felt him in the Force, which was exactly half a second before Ben had seen the blaster aimed at his chest. He didn’t like how he’d spoken to Rey, and all at once he knew there was more to this child than he’d realized. That she was in with something more complex then he would have imagined. There was no fear in her as she walked away, but he’d felt her discomfort. Felt her hiding part of herself away.  _ Protecting  _ a piece of herself from being seen. From being used against her. 

It’d made him see red and act on instinct as he rooted himself in place and cast a protective shield around Rey. He’d guessed he could manage to hold it around her until she was several klicks away, but he’d never tried this before, and wondered if he could keep it in place even once she’d passed from sight. Maybe he could make it reach as far as the speeder took her, until she’d reached a ship with the Rodian that felt of crime and deceit… 

Now, the extent of his abilities is long forgotten as he runs. As he reaches into the Force and  _ feels _ as he runs. As he breathes. As he believes that he’s done enough.

As he feels her heart beating…

He’s done enough to keep her alive… 

And he’s more relieved and happy than he remembers being before, but his actions aren’t enough to keep her from being thrown from the speeder. To keep her from the impact of flying backwards. 

“Rey? Rey?” He says her name over and over as he makes it to the wreckage, kneeling over her. He checks her wrist, then neck. Checking and double checking her pulse. 

Alive.

_ Alive. _

The Rodian is an afterthought, and fleeting shadow as he scoops her in his arms, trying to remember where he’d seen the medcare building sign. He growls under his breath, looking back to the scum that part of him would just as soon leave charred and alone. To fend for himself as he’d left  _ Rey _ earlier… 

A cold voice whispers that he  _ should _ … That it’s what the creature  _ deserves _ …

Rey stirs in his arms, and Ben slams the doors of his mind, throwing up every last shield. 

He’s forgotten about Snoke entirely with the existence of Rey. Forgotten that he— _ Ben _ —may pose just as much a threat to this child as whatever the Rodian’s involved with if Snoke ever found out about her. About the strength of the Force flowing around and through her. 

He swallows hard and stretches out. And lifts the Rodian as if he were no more than a feather, keeping his arms folded over his chest as Ben walks. As he carries the both of them back to the throngs of the market, which has morphed into a gathering crowd by this point. 

He hears his master’s voice before he sees him. “What is it, Ben?”

“Their speeder exploded and she needs help—they both do,” he amends, finding Master Skywalker’s clear blue eyes studying and searching… and ready to help. Always ready to help when there’s a need in the galaxy. 

Master Skywalker nods and takes hold of the Rodian in the Force. Someone from the throng comes forward and says he’ll lead them to the medcare center. Everyone parts as the Jedi carry their wounded. Ben doesn’t want to think about how small Rey is, how fragile she feels. 

How very quickly her life could have been snuffed out. Extinguished forever. A burning light that could have lost to the galaxy before it had a chance to burn...

Doctors rush out and take their new patients from the Jedi. Master Skywalker doesn’t ask if they’re waiting on the results. He merely sits and asks Ben some perfunctory questions. Things like if that was the child Ben stayed to talk to, and was it an explosion or where they fired on? Ben gives nothing more than necessary answers, in part because he truly knows nothing, but also because he doesn’t want to think on the implications of it all. 

On how well-versed Rey is in conversation and how she buries down feelings of loneliness and fear. How quickly she was to soften to Ben when she thought he was a slave… How strongly the Force flowed within her… It’s an eternity to wait, and he can feel the remainder of Master Skywalker’s unasked questions…

Can feel long,  _ cold _ fingers prod against his mind… “ _ What have you found, young Solo?”  _

Ben folds his lips in a thin line, clenching his hands as he struggles to keep his breath steady. And calm. 

He thinks of the blue light…

And breathes. 

_ There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace.  _

“Ben?” The doctor comes out of Rey’s room and Ben’s head snaps to. “She’s all right and says she’d like to thank you.” 

“Thank you,” he says, all but rushing into the room. “Rey I—”

He’s silenced as Rey lifts a finger to her mouth, shaking her head before looking back to a speaking comm holoimage. 

“—appropriate measures will be taken against the Crymorah clan for their deception. And attempt on your lives.” 

“Yes, Qi’ra,” Rey nods to the blue projection. 

“Is your rescuer in the room?” 

“Yes.” Rey turns the holocam around and Ben feels more than a little awkward as he comes face-to-face with the woman who’d been speaking to Rey. To the one who was likely behind whatever it was that Rey was involved with… 

The woman’s hands lace together and her smile is formal, but genuine. Ben can tell that at least. “I understand I have you to thank for saving my desert flower’s life.” 

Ben forgets himself for a moment and blushes. Straight up  _ blushes _ . As if he were thirteen and she’s just told him he’s the handsomest and bravest young man she’s ever met. Maybe he’s not used to receiving compliments, he reasons. Or maybe there’s just something about this woman… 

“Your actions shall not go unrewarded, young Jedi,” she continues, shaking Ben from his thoughts, centering him back to the  _ situation _ . “If you’ll wait in Kothal, I’ll be arriving shortly to pay you handsomely.” 

“That won’t be necessary,” Ben answers, shaking his head, eyes flickering over to Rey, fragile Rey, little Rey, sitting in the cot.  _ I won’t have much time if she’s on her way…  _ “My master and I were merely in the right place at the right time. We’ll be leaving shortly, but glad we were able to help.” 

The woman hums and blinks at him. Once, twice. “Then allow my deepest and sincerest gratitude to suffice,” she finally says. “May I at least have your name?” 

“Ben. Ben Solo.”

She blinks again and he’s suddenly afraid he’s said too much. That she’ll be able to place that name. 

“Thank you, Ben Solo,” is all she says, though. She tells Rey goodbye as well and says she’ll see her soon before the projection fades and Rey switches the comm off. 

“Rey—” 

“Thank you, Ben.” Her jaw is tight as she meets his eye. “I wanted to thank you. And Qi’ra wanted to as well. But I’m telling you for me, thank you. I don’t how you did it, but I’ve survived that with little more than some scrapes and bruises. And I know that’s because of you.” 

He takes two steps towards the cot, running a gloved hand through his hair. “Kriff Rey—who are you? Who are you in with? Crymorah’s not a strong crime syndicate, but they’re still around and who’s the Rodian who thinks he can order you around and talk to you like you’re—”

“Qi’ra’s my family,” she interrupts, her face still, and hands folded over her lap. “And that’s all you need to know.” 

_ Not good enough.  _ “You could be safe with us. At the Jedi temple. You could come with us now. Master Skywalker won’t ask any questions. We can take you and hide you. We can keep you safe, and you can be free to be… whatever it is you wanna grow up to be.” His shin brushes against the edge of her cot, and he’s pleading now.  _ Begging _ . He can keep her from Snoke. He can do whatever it takes to keep her safe. “Please, Rey. Come with us.” 

Her throat bobs and the smile she gives him is sad one. One that’s a vice clamping and squeezing his heart. “If you were really offering, I’d almost believe you. And I’d thank you.” She swallows again and takes a loud breath. “But you’re not, Ben. You’re  _ not _ ,” she repeats, and he can’t tell if she’s trying to tell him something or convince herself. “So this is me telling you thank you. And goodbye.” 

_ Goodbye.  _

Such a statement of finality. Nothing Ben hasn’t heard before. 

It’s still bitter on his tongue, and leaves him dull and aching as he and Master Skywalker depart. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: HELLO! Snippets from this chapter are taken and copied from Claudia Gray’s "Bloodline." She's the queen of Star Wars, and considering the topic this chapter, there was just no way of getting around it. It's an all Ben chapter and I hope you enjoy <3 
> 
> All love to my alpha/beta team: Frumpologist, QuinTalon, and madi_solo. All remaining errors are my own, and no copyright infringement intended. 

* * *

Ben thinks that his twenties are marginally easier than his teen years thus far. Life seems to have found a sort of rhythm that he doesn’t hate and isn’t always so angry over. His birthdays come and go without much notice or celebration, and that doesn’t sting anymore. Mom and Dad always send presents and their love, but he doesn’t see his parents.  _ Hasn’t _ seen either of them in years, actually. 

Doesn’t hear from them too much either. There’s a holomessage from Mom every month or so. Sometimes she gets “caught up” and forgets. He doesn’t find himself wishing she’d forget or not forget these days though. No, he notices she’s looked tired the last several messages. She’s even mentioned missing him and Dad more… That she feels she’s missed out on what a family might have felt like… But she always finishes with talking about what’s happening in the Senate, and asking if he or Luke had noticed anything out of the ordinary in whatever region they’ve been “traversing”, and Ben knows his mom isn’t going anywhere. That the Senate and her call to duty will always win out over him. 

Always. 

And maybe part of growing up is that it doesn’t hurt as much as it had when he was younger. Or maybe it does. Dad seems to really miss her, but maybe that’s on  _ him _ , because the old idiot  _ could _ go home and find something to do in the city with Mom… But he doesn’t. And Ben knows he doesn’t because Ben talks to his Dad. They’ve started exchanging messages more—not often. Just  _ more.  _

It started when Ben and Master Skywalker got into it over the hyperdrive of Master Skywalker’s starship and went on from there. Ben tells himself it’s because he and his master frequently argue about ships, thrusters, compressors, and hyperdrives, but there’s probably more to it than that. Case in point: arguement or not, Ben really wishes his dad were here right now. And Chewie. Chewie’s harmless growls siding with Ben while Master Skywalker struggled to understand would be as good as it gets, honestly. 

“I should have been able to make it!” Master Skywalker insists, shaking his head incredulously over his control panel. 

Ben can only roll his eyes. It’s an excuse he’s heard too many times now. “And I keep telling you you  _ can’t _ . Not just  _ shouldn’t _ . But  _ can’t _ . As in can _ not _ .” His poor master. Always stuck in the past. Thinking of his glory days in a single seater X-wing.  _ Nostalgic moof milker _ , he sniffs. “The weight isn’t evenly distributed on the exterior and design. It’s also  _ bigger _ . More than a decade later and you keep expecting it to have the speed and agility as an X-Wing, but it won’t.”

“It does! This ship was designed and built with those specifications in mind.” 

“Irrelevant if you still treat it like a single-seater fighter!” 

They’ve come to a stand-off, all glares and wild gesturing, and Ben thinks now would be the perfect time for a Wookie’s laughter to sound off in the background. Or for Artoo to finish up with those minor touch-ups to the built-in caf machine in the kitchenette… He can almost hear both of them agreeing with him in his mind, actually, because he’s right. He  _ knows  _ it. 

He draws a sharp breath and falls back into his seat. “If you just ease off the thrusters and play to her strengths more, you’d get close to the speed you’re trying to reach. She’s not going to get there with you pushing hard and fast. A softer touch and a little patience, and she’ll do exactly as you ask.” 

It’s not until  _ after _ he’s said it all that he hears the innuendo, and he can silently hear Dad and Lando falling over laughing at it. At the fact it was  _ Ben _ saying it more than the words themselves. Master Skywalker simply smirks, but says nothing as he settles back into his seat, and Ben needs to find something else. Needs to make one final point to have the last say in this. Yes, it may be childish or immature, but the need to argue anything and everything is something he accepts as part of himself now. He doesn’t see it as a flaw he’ll eventually outgrow anymore. 

And considering his parents, acceptance is probably a good place to be. 

“Also, stop trying to fit through impossible spaces,” Ben adds. “This isn’t the  _ Falcon _ and you’re not Dad.” 

Master Skywalker snorts. “At least I never have issues making the jump to lightspeed.”

“Oh! Well,  _ that’s _ another thing!” He leans forward, fuelled to go another round now. “You drop out too soon and it puts pressure on your hyperdrive. It’s gonna have to be replaced again soon enough, and you can’t keep affording repairs like that.” His lips curl into a triumphant smirk now. “Which means we’ll have to start taking the  _ Grimtaash _ more and  _ I’m _ piloting.” 

“Never!” Master Skywalker gives a dismissive wave and focuses again on his control panel. “Too many scrapes playing the role of passenger to a Solo. Never,  _ never _ again, and that’s my final word.”

Ben rolls his eyes and settles back in his padded chair. His master’s being dramatic again and  _ whatever... _ It’s a family trait after all, and one Hennix and Tai sometimes uncle and nephew about. Ben would protest, but even  _ he _ can’t deny the trademark characteristics. The tendencies to the overdone and flashy, not just within himself, but Master Skywalker and Mom. Dad’s more daring, than flashy, but Ben sees that same Solo cocky overconfidence in himself, too, and it’s almost a flawless persona. 

_ Almost _ . 

Only just almost, because Ben sees the cracks in his mask. He knows the deep, dark crevices where fear not only lingers, but reigns supreme. Snoke’s voice hounds him in the days, telling him he’s wasting time and potential with Master Skywalker. That he’s not fit to be a Jedi. That no one at the Temple trusts him, and  _ that’s _ the true reason Ben always accompanied Master Skywalker on missions. Why he’s never given missions on his own, or just with Tai or Hennix. 

He fights harder to keep that voice to a minimum these days. Because Ben prefers the voices of his dad, Lando, and Chewie. Hell, even Mom or Master Skywalker are more welcome internal voices. They don’t leave him cold and drained of all happiness. They don’t haunt him at night, either. 

“You okay, kid?” 

Ben’s yanked from his internalization with a start. It’s not an unusual question for his master to ask, just… not what he’d expected after their heated debate. 

“Yeah,” Ben answers, scrambling for something. “Yeah, I’m all right. Just... the little girl we helped, the one running from Czerka Corporation… She reminded me of Rey.” 

“The girl outside the cantina in the market?” 

Ben nods, not expanding on anything aloud. He hasn’t forgotten her. Hasn’t stopped worrying for her. He’d done his research once they’d come back to the Temple from Kothal city on Lothal. Qi’ra ran Crimson Dawn—wasn’t just a mercenary for hire, or a smuggler, or a pirate. Hell, she wasn’t even some low-level lackey, or even a lieutenant amidst the ranks. 

_ Ran _ .  _ Crimson Dawn _ . Still the most powerful crime syndicate in the galaxy. 

And Rey had called her family. 

_ Family _ . 

So, yeah. Two years later and Ben thinks of Rey. Worries for her and hopes she’s all right. Hopes that spark of light within her hasn’t gone out. And wonders if the Force will allow their paths to ever cross again so he can  _ know _ how she’s doing or turned out…

It’d be nice to think that at least one of his wishes would come true someday.

* * *

Master Skywalker doesn’t say anything more about his flying or Rey as they drop from hyperspace, still too soon, and Ben makes a point to  _ not _ point anything out. And he thinks he should count their mutual, almost companionable, silence as a win. In fact, Tai’s even waiting for their arrival on the landing pad, which could be another win. Maybe he’ll want to spar and Ben can stretch out his muscles after sitting through hyperspace. Besides, it’s been near a month since he’s sparred with anyone other than Master Skywalker, and this could be fun. 

Or maybe the speeder’s broken down again and Ben can lose himself to some mindless tinkering and fixing. Or the shield generator… Either way, Ben’s in good spirits as he and Master Skywalker make it down the gangplank, Artoo following behind, whistling about going to find the Temple droid GeeGee somewhere about the grounds. Their mission had stretched out to almost a month, and Ben’s thinking it’ll even be nice to see Voe or Lorr…

And Tai’s frown and furrowed brow are a shock to Ben’s system.

“Master Skywalker… Ben…” Tai nods to each of them and is shuffling on his feet. His fingers drum over his leg. “I didn’t want to ask over the comm… Have either of you—no, that’s not the best way to start this…” His gaze drops and he’s shaking his bald head at himself. Ben goes clammy as Tai mutters to himself. Master Skywalker’s about to cut in with something, but Tai yanks his head up, meeting them both in the eye. “Did either of you hear anything about what happened in the Senate while you were gone?” 

No “welcome back.” No preamble with “was your time productive?”

“What’s happened, Tai?” Master Skywalker doesn’t waste time or words on explanations. They’re irrelevant by now anyways. 

“A whole lot. And it probably would all be better coming from Lorr, but he’s taken the others on a short expedition, because we weren’t expecting the two of you back for another couple of days, and—” Tai cuts himself off, clamping his jaw shut, and rubbing the back of his neck. “Stars, you guys missed a  _ lot _ .” 

Ben thinks his heart is in his throat, and the way Master Skywalker is tensing says that even he is running low on patience. 

“Is my sister all right?” he asks—snaps actually. 

  
“Well, that’s… kinda relative, I think.” Tai’s huffs before spreading his hands in a useless gesture. “Physically, she’s healthy and all right.” 

Oh, Ben doesn’t like the sound of this… 

Tai continues: “She was nominated to be the Populist candidate in a new position in the Galactic Senate, First Senator, actually.” 

“Of course she was,” Ben blurts, all his worry melting away, frustration furling in its wake. “And of course she’s run and won already, correct?” 

“Not exactly.” Tai shakes his head, his voice softening. “See, there was a bombing—”

“BOMBING?!” 

“Is Leia all right? Do they need help with the investigation?” 

“No, no—wait don’t go anywhere yet!” Tai swears loudly, and it’s a testament to how bad things must be. A weight sinks in Ben’s gut, because Tai is usually the calmest and most level-headed of all of them. “The investigation’s over. The Senate all but ripped itself apart before the end, the Populists and Centrists at each other’s throats over all of it. But even so… I don’t think they’d be asking for your help, Master Skywalker. Not this time…” He pauses, blinking several times while looking only at his master. “And not anytime soon I’d think.” 

Master Skywalker tilts his head. “What aren’t you saying, Tai?” 

“Darth Vader.” There’s a tremor to Tai’s jaw and his throat bobs in a hard swallow. “Why didn’t you tell us the truth, Master? Your father, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, became the Sith Lord Darth Vader?”

* * *

Swirling storms. Dangerous flashes of burning lightning. Booms of thunder. A roaring maelstrom over an angry sea. 

That’s all Ben is. That’s all he knows. 

There’s nothing beyond this storm. There never was, and there never will be.    
  
He’s seen the holo from the senate floor a dozen times now, but it never changes. There’s never a different outcome. It’s the same every time and Ben’s drowning. Drowning and there’s no help. 

No escape. 

“Ben?” 

There’s a knock on his hut door, but Ben ignores it. Ignores everything and uses the Force to switch the holo on once more. 

He needs to see it again. Needs the proof that he’s been lied to his entire life once more. Needs to watch his world and trust crumble one last time before he can accept it. Before he can decide if he’s going to rise above and conquer the storm… 

Or drown in its tide. Become one with the fury.

* * *

“ _ I must take the floor.”  _ A senator Ben doesn’t know stands and begins to talk. Ben allows some of it to fade, only paying attention to what’s important by now. “ _ To my deepest regret, I have learned the Leia Organa does not deserve that trust.”  _ There’s confusion on the Senate floor, and other Populists have risen to their feet, but all Ben can see is his mother. 

_ Mom…  _

He sees the precise moment her confusion transforms into something else. Something resigned. She knows that this senator  _ knows _ . 

“ _ Senator Leia Organa is none other than the daughter of Darth Vader himself!”  _

The words crash into him and if Ben weren’t already sitting on the floor, he’d surely have fallen over, his legs limp and weak under his weight. He’s numb though. He can’t even think of bringing them to his chest as he would when he was a child. 

The senator says he has proof and pulls out something. Something that steals all his mom’s attention and looks like someone or something punched her in the gut. Every protective instinct within Ben wants to be there with her, wants to shield her from the pain to come—which is irrational. Because Ben doesn’t know this woman.

Doesn’t understand the woman who’s lied to him his entire life. Doesn’t know who these famous twins Luke-and-Leia are. Because they were pillars in the galaxy. Beacons of light, hope, truth, peace, and new beginnings. Not the frauds he now knows them to be. 

_ Mirrorbright _ , an Alderaanian lullaby, finishes playing and Ben’s would-be adopted grandfather begins to speak: “ _ My beloved daughter. The supreme governor of Birren, whom I trust completely, said that he would keep this here for you when you someday inherit this title. My hope is that this recording contains no new information, that I have had the chance to explain everything to you myself.”  _ Bail Organa continues and the words blend, blur, and fade. Ben doesn’t know if Bail told Leia everything. Doesn’t know how it was Leia came to find out… when she came to discover the truth of her family. 

Ben hears the full name of his namesake, Obi-Wan Kenobi. How he took Luke to Tatooine while Bail took Leia. How they’d conspired to hide the children from their father.

“... _ But now I must tell you the worst, and you must be strong. I must tell you what became of Anakin Skywalker. Your father has become Darth Vader.”  _

A cacophony of shouts, yells, and demands sounds through the holo. The cams seem confused and uncertain where to focus—the senator, his mom, or another Populist Ben recognizes as Tai-Lin Garr. He calls for proof. The senator lays the responsibility on Senator Leia Organa herself. 

And Mom, Ben’s  _ mom _ … she does the unthinkable, and says, “Senator Casterfo’s accusation is true. My father was Darth Vader.” 

Another piece of Ben’s heart dies all over again.

Bile claws up his throat and there’s not enough air in his hut, but Ben can’t leave. He can never leave because that means accepting it. Means that he accepts the dawn of a new day, and the stars of another night under the knowledge that his own family kept the truth from him all these years. That he accepts he’s the grandson of one of the greatest evils this galaxy has ever known. That the dark has always been part of him, and that he’s just been lying to himself all this time. 

That he’s been running from himself… and he’s only been a fool to think he could run forever. 

Snoke hisses in his mind, “ _ So, you know at last, young Solo…”  _ He laughs, and it’s dark and cold and cruel. As if he’d been waiting for this all along.

Ben sees red and slams all his power against the doors of his mind. He growls with the effort and doesn’t realize he’s broken his bed, table, chair, and calligraphy set until splinters shower back into his face and arms. Until his master—the  _ traitor _ —forces his way in, asking useless and palacating things like: 

“What have you done?” and “Are you all right?” and “Can you get up?” and “Are you ready to talk?” 

No. 

Ben’s not all right. He can’t get up, doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to get up again. Doesn’t know when he’ll be ready to talk, and he doesn’t know what he’s done. He only knows he’s tired. 

So damned tired. 

He’s been running, sometimes barely managing to crawl, from the darkness that’s called to him for so long. So.  _ Long _ . Only to find out he’s been running from his past, his future, and his destiny all along.

* * *

He’s better now. 

He doesn’t really know how he is, but somehow Ben’s better. He’s been sleeping on the  _ Grimtaash _ , and everyone seemed to agree to give him his time and space. Or they’re simply too afraid or disgusted to come and speak to him.

Doesn’t matter, though. 

Ben’s had his time alone, and he’s glad for it. Time to think. To process. To try to understand. It’s all for naught, though. 

Because he can’t. 

He  _ can’t _ . 

They lied. Lied to  _ him _ . Lied to the other students. Lied to the galaxy. 

Ben’s ready to fight now. Ready to make someone pay for lying to him for so long. He’s learned the Galactic Senate is all but a sham now, and his mother is on the run— _ again _ . Immaterial. He would never,  _ could  _ never, challenge her to a duel anyway. 

He’ll just have to settle for the next best thing. 

“Master Skywalker,” he yells across the compound, his bellow hoarse and honestly little more than the croak of a wounded animal, but Ben doesn’t care. Nothing matters now. He stands his ground in the sparring area of the temple grounds and shouts again, “Master Skywalker!” Cold tendrils of the Force tangle and web around him. They’re nothing compared to the hurricane within. 

To the voice in his mind goading him. “ _ Good. Goooood, young Solo. You are last breaking free. Becoming all you were meant to be.”  _

Ben doesn’t know anything about that. He even shoves at the voice. He wants nothing to distract him from his hurt and anger right now. The way it simmers and swells as Master Skywalker comes out, his white Jedi robes a laughable mockery of all the old man stands for. 

His master walks to the edge of the sparring area, some of the students poking their heads out of the Temple to watch. None of that matters, either, because Master Skywalker opens his mouth. “Can we talk, Ben? Please. Leia left you a message.” 

“Talk’s apparently cheap for both of you.” Ben’s lips curl into a snarl seared into his heart, his hands clench with fury that makes him feel strong. Stronger than he ever has. “Were you ever going to tell me? To tell anyone else, or was it all supposed to be one big secret you hoped the galaxy would never know about?” 

“Would you be jumping up and down for the chance to tell everyone, Ben?” His master’s cool blue eyes pierce him, startling the roaring whirls of wind within him. “What was supposed to be the best time to tell you? What would have been our sign?” 

_ “More deflection,”  _ Snoke whispers to him.

Ben’s hand snatches for his lightsaber. “When you brought me here!”  _ Insufferable, miserable, stupid,  _ **_weak_ ** _. Skywalker’s a fool…  _ “When you knew Dad was scared and Mom was dumping me on you! That first night! Hell, you had hours on the ship from Chandrila to here and you hardly said anything! You could have told me then.” Something inside him snaps, the last of a piece of something broken falling into place. He ignites his blue blade, chest heaving. “You  _ should _ have told me then.” 

“You’re right.” Master Skywalker drops his outer robes, his lightsaber glinting against his brown leather belt. “Your anger is talking to you now, and you’ve every right to be angry with us, Ben. What you do with it is a choice presented to you—what will you choose?” 

The strangled cackle fills the air around them, and Ben doesn’t realize it’s coming from him until he’s charging. The Force flows around him and through him, cold and dark. But unyielding. His master is ready as he ignites his blade, blue meeting green. Ben sees the sadness reflecting back at him in his master’s eyes. 

It feels as if his master is mocking him. Ben feels small. Laughed at…

He twists and strikes low. Master Skywalker blocks. “I’m sorry, Ben,” he says over the humming of their blades. 

“I’m sure you are,” Ben answers. It’s the last thing he says before he attacks. He’s an animal that’s been caged; fear, anger, and hatred have been his chains. Today, right now, they are his weapon. 

_ Strike, lunge, thrust, strike. _ He aims blow after blow. On the offense, on the attack. Stepping into every space his master tries to back into, forcing their blades to clash again and again. 

“Fight me.” Ben’s jaw trembles. He’s weak, and he hates himself for it. He tightens his grip around the hilt of his lightsaber. “Fight me!” 

“I don’t want to.” Master Skywalker is calm. He’s unafraid. “I want to talk to you.” 

_ “He’s a fool,”  _ Snoke goads.

Ben agrees. 

He lunges again, delivering blow after blow. It’s not smooth, it’s not a graceful dance of strike forms he knows by heart, that his muscles know from memory. It’s a flurry, a rush, and a rage. One that’s deeper than anything he remembers from his youth. Ben remembers all his struggles, how much he’d battled and suffered alone. Without answers, just placating words and mantras—

And throws himself at Master Skywalker, blade aimed high. “You should have told me!” 

“Yes, Ben.” Their blades cross, hissing and crackling, and the very ground beneath Ben seems to shake. Master Skywalker looks him in the eye. “We should have. Your mother, your father, and I. We all should have told you together.” 

_ Dad _ . 

One little word. So simple, so complex. 

It’s enough. 

Ben’s thumb switches off his blade and he crashes to the ground, gasping for air. Choking under the weight of his own emotion. “Dad,” he croaks fists curling, hot tears striping down his cheeks. “Kriff, did  _ he _ know? Vader put him in carbon freeze—delivered him over to Boba Fett, and, and…” 

“He knows.” 

The words shatter Ben. He’s that lost little boy again. And maybe he always has been. Maybe all this time he’s been fooling himself into believing he’d ever moved on from that. But none of that matters, because he’s broken. And can’t fight the tears any longer. 

He drops his lightsaber and buries his face in his hands and weeps.

* * *

Sometime later, when the sun sinks from the sky, and the stars blink down from their place in the sea of inky-black expanse above, Ben finds himself in Master Skywalker’s quarters. Sitting at a table and drinking tea. As if Ben hadn’t launched an attack on his master. As if he hadn’t given into his anger… Let the darkness fuel his every strike and blow. 

Ben hates forgiveness, even as he clings to it. 

“I’m not trying to offer you excuses, Ben. I’m sorry.” Master Skywalker looks down, swirling his tea in his cup. “It doesn’t make up for anything, but… maybe it’ll help to know Obi Wan lied to me, too.” 

An incredulous snort cuts through the speech and Ben tries to bury his disbelief by bringing the cup to his mouth. 

Master Skywalker gives him a wry smile. “I know. It doesn’t negate this. And actually, Obi-Wan still claims he told me the truth. ‘From a certain point of view’, he likes to remind me from time to time.” A pause as he sips his tea, while Ben tries very hard to  _ not _ roll his eyes. He succeeds and Master Skywalker lowers his cup. He continues, “Sometimes I see what Obi-Wan meant. How it seemed to him that Vader choked out all that was good in Anakin. But other times I still remember how betrayed I felt when Vader told me  _ he _ was my father. How they were one and the same, and I felt it to be true.” 

“I… I think I can get that, Master.” Ben drinks his tea, forcing his heart to slow, forcing himself to  _ breathe _ as his cup descends back to the table. “But all these years… All the times you’ve seen me struggle, how much more the dark speaks to me… And still you never told me.” 

“That was wrong. And that was our fear holding us back. Holding me back.” 

“And Mom,” Ben sniffs, eyes narrowing into his tea. 

His master draws a sharp breath. “I think… I think tread carefully before you blame Leia for too much. She never talks about it with me even. I don’t know how much she and Han have talked about it, either. It’s an acknowledged truth, like two plus two is four, but she loathes it still. And part of me gets that.

“I was so excited to learn I had a sister, and a twin sister at that, I assumed in the beginning we’d want to talk of everything.” Master Skywalker shakes his head, sorrow flowing from him to Ben in gentle waves. “But Leia was never like me in that way. She could always bury her feelings away. Compartmentalize and do what needed to be done. And for her that meant bringing peace to the galaxy. Then rebuilding a government, and figuring out how to be a wife, and then a mom… I’d go off on mission and return and try to talk to her. I’d want to talk things through with her because I needed it, but she always kept that door closed.” 

“Can you blame her?” 

“No.” His master leans back in his chair, his hands folding together over his lap. “It’s different with her, I know it is. She had a mother and father who loved her. Breha and Bail considered her as their own flesh and blood, and Leia never needed the truth of her birth like I did. My aunt and uncle were kind, but I grew up idolizing the idea of my father who managed to get off Tatooine. Who did what I dreamed of doing. And then I learned from Obi-Wan that he was a General and a Jedi in the Clone Wars. Anakin Skywalker was everything to me for three years as I tried to train on my own.” 

Ben thinks he can understand that, at least in part. The legend and stories of Han Solo were once all he wanted from life… then realizing all the disappointment that comes from knowing your heroes. And the dark is back, stoking the embers of his anger… “Vader took that from you. He shattered the dream.” Like his mom… Like Dad... 

“Yes.” His master nods, stroking his beard. “It was months before I could be anything but angry when I thought about it. But even still, for  _ me _ , he was my father. First, last, and always. For your mother, though, he was the one who captured her and tortured her. The one who forced her to watch as her planet was destroyed. The one who almost killed Han.” 

It’s hard to breathe again, to see straight, because everything blurs. Ben’s shaking his head, his anger clashing to maintain ground under the flood of compassion, wave after healing wave of understanding. Warm hands bind around his forearms and he’s forced to meet the piercing blue eye of his master. His  _ uncle _ . His family. 

“I think your mother struggles with hate more than you and I know. Between hating the monster who took more from her than you and I can ever truly understand, and hating herself for being born a child of that monster. For having his blood in her.” He squeezes Ben’s arms, sighs and gets up. “Sleep here tonight, Ben. Don’t go back out to be alone on your ship. I’ll take the guest quarters. Stay here and listen to Leia’s message. Please.” 

“Okay.” Ben doesn’t know what makes him give in. Doesn’t understand why he’s compelled to  _ stay _ . To listen, to try to understand. Snoke howls in his mind, shaking against the mental doors Ben locked before entering his master’s quarters. He feels the taunts.

“ _ Useless. Spineless. Weak. Unwilling to do what is necessary. Malleable under their manipulative love.”  _

He struggles against the voice. Battles believing them to be true. Wars under their weight as he switches on the holo. 

Mom’s words are of comfort. And love. She speaks of regret, and how she wishes she could be there to talk to him in person. She implores him to reach out to her soon. She hopes they can find a place to meet and talk in person. She reminds him of her love as she signs off, sorrow and regret marking her every feature. Punctuating her every word. 

Snoke’s mocking hiss filters through the cracks of the door in his mind. “ _ Excuses. She still lied. Have  _ **_I_ ** _ ever lied to you, Ben?”  _

No. To Ben’s knowledge, Snoke has never lied. 

But that’s the thing now: Ben doesn’t know who or what he can believe anymore. His very foundation has been shaken… 

He considers all his master shared with him, all his mother had told him growing up… Then adjusts the holo, ready at last to record a response. “I don’t know where you are, Mom. I’m not sure I’m ready to know.” His throat bobs and he presses his lips together before carrying on. “I wish you’d told me. You always speak so highly of Bail and Breha. You were younger than I am now when you started in the Rebellion, which makes me think Bail and Breha told you the truth. That they trusted you to be brave and understanding. 

“You should have told me. You should have trusted me with the truth. We could have figured out a path forward, a hard path, I’m sure, because I never make things easy. But it would have been  _ ours _ , one we forged and struggled for together. But now you’re gone. You’ve left me alone again. And I don’t know how I can believe you love me when you never trusted me with the truth.” 

He switches off the holo and sends it to the void…

His mask is cracked and falling as he crumples to the floor. He sobs in his hands long into the night, and he’s grateful to be alone. Grateful no one is there to taunt him as he’s once again that lost and frightened little boy. To hear him believe his nightmares: that he’s born of the dark, and he belongs with the dark.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey continues to grow up :) It's an all Rey chapter :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think from here on out it is important to note a couple of things: I may fudge the canon timeline by a year or two, and I’m doing that for the narrative. Also, ‘historical events’ may not be told as they actually happened in the book/movie/TV show but as a character perceives them, and that’s on purpose. I’m telling it as this character’s POV may be with it. 
> 
> So very much love to my alpha and beta team of madi_solo, QuinTalon, and Frumpologist. I love you ladies very much <3 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and your kind words! It's so lovely and encouraging!!

* * *

Eleven isn’t awful—it’s only the  _ worst. _

Sometimes. 

Not  _ all _ the time. 

Just when she loses focus in the middle of the training because her mind has wandered, and she feels five centimeters tall. 

“REY!” 

Her face flames as she crashes to the mat below. And not because she’s hurt anything. This is not the first time she’s fallen today. Or stumbled. Or tripped over her own feet. Or over  _ the air in the room _ … 

It’s not the first time that’s happened this week, either… or the last month. 

And Rey somehow knows it won’t be the last time, either. 

“Apologies, Mister Hirrean,” she says, picking herself up, sucking a steadying breath and making a show of smoothing not-there-wrinkles from her slacks. 

Her trainer nods and gestures to the balance beam. “Again. Focus. Clear your mind of whatever’s holding your attention these days and  _ focus _ . First form all the way down and back. Then again and add in second form. Down and back. All the way through until you get through seventh.” 

“Yes, sir.” She stretches her fingers before bracing her hands against the beam and lifting herself up. She knows the poses and forms and can do them all in her sleep. The added pressure of a beam for balance and extra focus  _ shouldn’t  _ be this hard. 

It.  _ Shouldn’t _ . 

But there’s this  _ thing _ that keeps happening lately. This  _ thing _ where her trainer’s voice has apparently dropped to something that’s low and  _ dreamy _ . His dark, curly hair is just really the best.  _ Ever _ . He always wears it up in a tight bun, but she’s wondered what it’d feel like to touch. She just knows it’d be  _ so _ soft. 

There’s the thing where she knows he’s over thirty, which means he’s ancient, but…  _ still _ …

She doesn’t mind age differences, she thinks. In fact, she’s pretty sure she hasn’t taken age into consideration when she’s doodled out a list of things she likes in a male. (She’s eleven now. A woman of the world, fully aware of what’s going to happen to her body soon enough—what’s already happening to her body. She has to wear a wrap around her slightly growing chest now, thank you very much.) Age is fairly low, falling after kindness, fast runner, strong hands, dark hair, and makes her laugh. 

Mister Hirrean doesn’t tick all the points on the list, but he’s  _ sooooooooo _ pretty… 

Rey catches herself on her way back up the beam, biting down on the inside of her lip as she meets her trainer’s eyes. 

“Good.” He nods and blinks twice. “Keep going.” 

_ Breathe in _ .  _ And out.  _

It helps Rey to look right into his eyes as she carries on. Because they’re all wrong. The wrong color, that is. They’re  _ blue _ ...Dazzling bright blue, and Rey’s decided that just won’t do. That she prefers dark eyes. A brown so dark it’s like a warm cup of caf that Qi’ra’s allowed her to start drinking mornings they dine together. 

She doesn’t let herself dwell on the one person she’s ever met to meet all these expectations before she even had them. It’s safer for him. 

And he’s probably forgotten all about her by now. 

A sadness fills her chest when she thinks that, clamping down on all her muscles, and she falls from the beam without warning. 

Mister Hirrean doesn’t sigh or groan. He simply tells her to start again from form one. Rey does, and it’s the longest session of her life.

* * *

The door to her sleeping quarters hisses open, but Rey doesn’t look up. She doesn’t dare to. Doesn’t want to even face Qi’ra right now. She stares very hard at her bed, picking at a thread that’s not there. Because her sheets are new and perfect—a recent gift to give her room a “more mature feel.” 

At least, that’s what she’d said to Qi’ra when she’d asked about new sheets at the time. 

She feels foolish for it now. 

Foolish and six-years-old all over again. 

And she can feel the weight of Qi’ra’s stare from across the room, which isn’t  _ that  _ far, but  _ still… _

She looses a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry—” 

The door hissed open again. “Where shall I place the tea, ma’am?” Rey straightens on her bed as AV-D3PO waddles in with a tray stuffed  _ full _ with everything for an afternoon tea. 

“You can set it on Mistress Rey’s bed, Deethree.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The droid does as she’s told. “Will there be anything more.” 

“Nothing Deethree. We would prefer to be undisturbed for this time.” 

Deethree gives a slight bow. “Yes, ma’am. I will personally check that your droid has been programmed to catch all incoming calls.” 

“Thank you.” Qi’ra’s half smile doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch as the droid exits and the door closes with a hiss. “Am I interrupting your brooding, my dear?” 

“Ugh.” Rey groans and her face falls forward in her hands. She  _ wants _ to throw herself backwards, kick her legs, place her pillow over her face and begin to scream. She feels Qi’ra would understand the need for that emotional response, but perhaps not since she’s already had the tea placed on Rey’s bed. “What’s wrong with me?” Rey moans from her hands instead. 

“Nothing, nothing. Nothing at all that you won’t learn to live with for the rest of your life.” 

Rey’s face shoots up at Qi’ra’s hum. The bed dips as Qi’ra joins Rey on the bed, all demure and poised, her knees together as she bends her legs. While there’s Rey… Rey and her long, light material dress and her feet tucked under her legs… Knees poking out, shoulders and back hunched… She rights her posture and position, attempting to look every bit the refined woman her guardian  _ is _ , and accepts the cup of tea handed to her. 

“Three sugars and a splash of cream,” Qi’ra says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “And all the assortments of your favorite sweets. Eat up, my girl.” 

“Thank you.” Rey’s smile is weak, but she brings the cup of tea to her nose and breathes deep. It’s perfect. A strong brew, from a fine Gatalenta brew. A  _ very  _ fine brew… She's developed a sense for teas seeing as how she’s never allowed to indulge in what Qi’ra usually drinks at lunch and dinner, and whatever’s only interesting for so long during the day. Besides, tea time has always been a thing, too. And Rey likes having a taste for something as refined as tea; it makes her feel she belongs… Belongs with Qi’ra. “Is this to cheer me up because Mister Hirrean says he’s quitting and refuses to train me?” 

“Not at all.” Qi’ra’s grinning into her teacup as she takes a small sip, closing her eyes as she savors the flavor. “Stupid in many ways, but Gatalenta knows tea. I cannot argue that…” Qi’ra smiles and takes another sip before lowering her cup to rest on her lap. “Your trainer and I have been talking and you’re going to continue with him four times weekly, but I’ll be coming at the end of your lessons twice a week to add to your training.” 

“Really?!” Rey can hardly keep the shock from her voice. 

Qi’ra’s smile looks real enough as she nods. “I think it’s time we build on your skills and add new meaning and value to them. And giving you something more than Mister Hirrean’s pretty face to focus on in your sessions may help you find your balance and form again.” 

Qi’ra’s smirking now and Rey freezes. Freezes and wants to  _ die _ . To sink through this bed, and become one with the floor. She can do that, right? She has an instinct with languages and mechanics, this shouldn’t be  _ that  _ difficult… 

“This is nothing to worry over, Rey.” Qi’ra’s hand is warm on her knee. Grounding. Anchoring. “It’s part of growing up and I think we can establish that you have good taste already. He’s a very pretty face. With muscles and a mind to match.”

Rey’s cheeks have flamed for the  _ thousandth _ time today and she fixes her gaze to her tea. “He could be prettier,” she dares to add, bringing her tea to her lips before she can embarrass herself more. 

“Oh?” Something fun and light dances in that word. Rey sneaks a look to find Qi’ra lifting a brow at her…

“Well, yeah,” Rey continues, nodding. “He always has his hair back in that bun-thing, so I don’t know how his hair  _ really _ looks, you know? It could be  _ too _ long and that’d be awful. Then there’s the fact he’s never made me laugh. Not once. And his eyes. They’re too light. Too pale.” 

Qi’ra’s giggling now. Openly. And Rey doesn’t know what it means, but maybe she’s redeemed herself of her months of clumsy error with that quick speech. 

“Seems you already know what you like then,” Qi’ra says, sipping her tea again. “And we’re nearing the end of this passing fancy. Teräs Käsi lessons may not be as necessary in helping you focus as much as I’d thought.” 

“Terra Kass what?” Rey’s head tilts and her hand stills half-way to the food on the tray. 

“Eat, eat, desert flower,” Qi’ra urges, handing Rey one of the dainty plates. “You work hard, and I’ve had a day of it, too. We’re entitled to a bit of a reward, I think. Don’t you?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Rey fills her plate and brings it to rest beside her still crossed legs. “What’s the Teran Kaas thing you were saying?” 

“Teräs Käsi,” Qi’ra repeats, adding more tea and splashing some more cream to her cup. “It’s a form of defense I was trained in. You’ve well exceeded through several basic forms, it’s time to build on those skills. To teach you to truly learn your opponent, to learn their weakness and use it for your gain. Be what they fear most after having met you.” 

That… all… sounds… It’s good, Rey thinks. It’s very good. She hates the sniffs and snide whispers she always hears. It’s kriffing annoying being the only child on this entire ship and still sometimes being mistaken for someone’s help or property… She still dreams she is. Still feels weak and alone at night. And that anyone could burst through her door and take her from all she knows… All she loves… 

“Will you like that?” Qi’ra asks, a light shining through the thickening dark of Rey’s fears.

“Very much. Thank you.” Rey selects a tiny sandwich and finishes it in two bites. Then has a second and a third before washing them down with more tea. “Did you have another topic for tea today, Qi’ra? Or something you want to quiz me on? My marks have really been all right. I think even better than last term.” 

“That they have.” Qi’ra’s smile is everything as she points to the tea pot. “Perhaps you could expand for me… I called Gatalenta stupid earlier, would you have anything to add to agree or disagree with that?” 

Rey could groan and curse her eagerness. Too quick to want to please; definitely a weakness of  _ hers _ , and Qi’ra’s pounced on it… “Well, aside from their tea,” she lifts her cup in a mock salute, flashing a crooked grin. “It’s a warm planet with multiple suns. It’s one of the Core Worlds that sides with the Populists right now… They’re pretty well off from what I’ve mostly seen.” 

“Aha, a new term. What’s a Populist?” 

Rey inserts multiple curses at herself. She  _ hates _ when quizzes turn political. Just  _ hates _ it. All the fancy terms and stupid, stupid laws and policies… “It’s a part of the New Republic that…” She trails off, squinting as if to read an invisible data pad in midair…  _ She knows this _ … “Oh! They’re for more localized power and authority to individual planets.” 

“Correct. And their opposition?” 

“The Centrists. They want more power to the Republic itself.” 

“That’s right.” Qi’ra nods and sips her tea. “And are there any other parties?” 

“No… Wait…” Rey thinks for a moment, mind whirring… “There might be, but we haven’t covered it in lessons yet.” 

“Probably because they’re not worth mentioning either. There  _ are _ and there always will be, but they’ll always align themselves with whomever can give them the most power. With whichever party or system will be of the most benefit to them.” 

That… makes more sense than Rey wants to admit. She thinks of Qi’ra’s offer for her to leave Puse. Of how it’d been to have freedom dangling over her. She thinks of Ben, how he’d offered her a chance for a different sort of life… How easy it had been to turn him down because  _ this _ was the best she’d ever had…

Easy and hard, perhaps. She’d liked Ben. Enough to wish him far away from her and any of Qi’ra’s ‘contacts’ and ‘associates’ for the rest of his life…

She shakes herself from her thoughts, shoving a pastry in her mouth before Qi’ra can ask her where her mind’s gone. “I don’t like studying it,” Rey says, wiping crumbs from her mouth with a napkin. She adds to clarify, “The senate, New Republic, the Empire and all that.” 

“Oh.” Qi’ra quirks a perfect brow. “Why not?” 

“It’s  _ so  _ boring.” She doesn’t care how much that makes her sound like a  _ kid _ . It’s what she is, and sometimes she can’t focus and try to be as perfect as Qi’ra. Sometimes she’s just Rey… who doesn’t enjoy studying politics. “All they do is talk and shout, then talk some more. Hours and hours of recordings like that until someone calls for order. Then they vote and always vote for their party. So what’s really the point in all of it?” 

A full on smirk curls up Qi’ra’s face. “I believe that’s the same question the majority of the galaxy asks themselves all the time.” 

“Then why bother with it at all? Why not just let the planets be and if they want to interact, they can. If not, don’t force it.” 

“Because for as much as you and I, and our world, act outside of the galactic law, there are systems and balances in place to help a great many worlds. Hyperspace lanes, import and export laws…” Qi’ra tilts her head as she adds more tea to her cup. “In all fairness, it’s a challenge trying to do the most good for the most lives. And even then, there’s much to be fought over with who has the say with what’s good for whom, and when and where and how.” 

Rey huffs and chomps down on another pastry. “Seems the easiest job is a senator’s then. They never really have to decide on anything and get paid to talk and argue.” 

“You’re beginning to see, then, desert flower.” Qi’ra’s eyes are glittering. It’s also a highly lucrative line of work, too. Being a senator, that is.” 

“Wait, what?” Rey doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like this one bit. “Helping their planet, representing it, being the voice of all their people… that all just comes back to money?” 

“Everything does.” Qi’ra wraps her hands around her cup, her face wearing one of her more serious looks. “Look at their history of capitals: Coruscant, Chandrilla, and now Hosnian Prime. Planets willingly sold themselves and their people to the Empire for the promise of money and protection.” 

Rey frowns, her blood running cold. That doesn’t make sense at all. “But the Empire... They hurt and killed so many people. They destroyed Alderaan. A whole war was fought to end their corruption and cruelty. Why would—”

“Because no one cares, Rey.” Qi’ra’s voice is firm, demanding Rey understand this. Or not linger on some of the words she’d just said… Rey’s breathing slows and stills as Qi’a continues. “In the end, no government truly cares about the people it claims to serve. The Old Republic, the Empire, the New Republic—all they care about is money. The senators get their lavish homes and lifestyle for their representatives while they do little more than argue day after day over what bill should or shouldn’t be enacted because of varying vague factors.” 

She keeps going, and Rey has trouble keeping up. Just a bit. It all sounds either a giant mess, or a life of ease. It  _ sounds _ like nothing ever has to  _ really _ get done, and the people in charge still get paid regardless. There never has to be any show of work to get paid. And that sounds more criminal than most of the dealings Rey knows of in Crimson Dawn… Senators sounded useless lifeforms over all; caring more for themselves than the people they were elected to represent...

They’re their own crime syndicate, only worse. Because they lie about who they really are. They lie to their people...

“Your marks have been very good as of late, Rey.” Qi’ra is no longer holding her teacup, and now has a datapad. She’s swiping through what looks to be Rey’s school file and Rey wonders how long she’s not been paying attention to have missed this…  _ Focus. _ She definitely needs to work on her focus. Qi’ra looks up and smiles, broad and warm. Like all the suns from all the planets. “I would even say excellent. And I think I’m of the opinion that hard work deserves a reward. Would you agree?”

Rey’s blushing again, but she nods all the same, hoping deep down “reward” isn’t code for a new dress from the tailor.

* * *

“Are you happy, then, desert flower?” 

Rey’s not able to contain the excited laugh bursting from her lungs. “It’s wonderful.” Not a new dress. This is definitely  _ not _ a new dress. She tears her gaze away from  _ everything _ to beam up at Qi’ra. “I’m...I can’t believe it! I still don’t understand  _ what _ we’re doing here.” 

“The Five Sabers is a prestigious pilot race.” Qi’ra waves a manicured hand about the stadium. “You love to fly. This seemed a useful means of supporting the local economy Theron while giving you a reward.” 

“But, I—” 

“Have been working very hard, haven’t you?” Qi’ra supplies, looking Rey right in the eye. “You’ve improved your forms enough to continue in training with me. Steady marks on exams, even improving in areas where there wasn’t much need to begin with. Building small appliance droids. You never cease to amaze me, Rey.” 

For as good as life is, as pleasant as things can be, Rey’s not used to such praise and complimenting. It must all be true, then, so she should soak it all in. 

Which she does. The thrum of the crowds, the roar of the engines, the food they find at vendors and stalls… Rey discovers she loves it. Loves all of it. The thrill and rush of the start of each event. The surge in her blood as she joins the crowd in their cheers and chants. She’s so overcome by all of it, she forgets to ask Qi’ra why they attended in regular clothes and on a rented ship, instead of in all their finest grandeur and on Qi’ra’s personal starship. Why they weren’t in a special box as Qi’ra is usually seated at sporting type events, with their names announced...

She even starts to ask Qi’ra if she thinks that Han Solo guy, who’s announced over the soundsystem and shown waving at the crowd from his coaching box, is any relation at all to Ben Solo from Lothal two, close to three, years ago now, but Qi’ra stiffens at the name. Rey doesn’t think she can sense her guardian breathing for several moments afterwards. She catches Qi’ra staring at the coach’s box several times during the race but decides to forget all about that, too.

* * *

The galaxy appears to be correcting itself after all. 

Sometime after the races, when life’s returning to normal and Rey has much to learn again, and tries to take new things in stride, there is a bombing at some stuffy breakfast meeting on Hosnian Prime. A bombing at a senator’s meeting. A distraction Qi’ra calls it, because no one was truly injured, but it served its purpose. 

“The Populists and Centralists will be at each other's throats for weeks,” Qi’ra comments, eyes almost glittering. “And it brings another level of chaos and disorder to the galaxy.” 

“Chaos and disorder” are code for Qi’ra will be very busy over the next several weeks. Rey actually isn’t able to see much of Qi’ra outside of her new, additional weekly training hours specifically with her… And that’s fine. That’s fair. It’s been busier aboard the  _ First Light _ since the bombing, more pirate comings and goings. Smugglers, too. 

It’s fine. Really, it is. 

It’s just that Rey misses the breakfast and talks… 

And so she’s out of her mind delighted when Qi’ra messages Deethree to have Rey ready for a breakfast with her one morning. Rey slips into her best day dress and is even patient enough to work her hair into the most intricate braid she knows, though her fingers are so excited it’s hard keeping them steady. 

“I’m sorry you’ve been neglected, Rey,” Qi’ra says as they sit down in her private quarters. “Much to oversee in the wake things.” 

“Oh, I’m… I’m sure there must be!” Rey folds her hands together over the napkin in her lap,  _ so very _ eager to impress this first morning together since before the races. “Especially since the Populists are outed with that scandal involving Senator Organa, I’m sure! Can you believe it? Lying to the galaxy all these years and passing off as the daughter of Alderaan still when she’s the daughter of Darth Vader himself!” 

But Qi’ra doesn’t react as Rey thinks she will. Instead of sparkling eyes and bright smiles and a deep dive into gossip that would make politics interesting, Qi’ra’s lips press into a thin line. Her voice is tight and controlled as she pours the tea and says, “Maybe that was because she was trying to fool herself.” 

“Pardon?” Rey stops filling her plate, not quite believing her ears. 

“It’s easy to be on the outside looking in.” Qi’ra sets down the teapot and laces her fingers together over the table. “It’s easy to be the person outside seeing the obvious and fault someone for it. Even judge them.” She shakes her head, holding Rey’s curious gaze as she does. “But sometimes the very thing we’re terrified of people knowing, the worst of our past or ourselves, is the very thing we feel is truest about ourselves. Do you still feel you’re a scavenger or a slave that no one will ever want?” 

“NO!” Rey blurts, her fingers squeezing hard into each other. “No, ma’am.” 

But Qi’ra smile has never looked more calculating, and it’s like she  _ knows _ . Like she sees right into Rey. “And there you have it, dear girl. You gave yourself away.” Qi’ra pauses and passes the fruit platter to Rey, who doesn’t feel all that hungry anymore. Qi’ra says, “You  _ feel _ you shouldn’t, because you’re neither of those things. Not anymore. You are my ward, and your place is with me. All of that’s true, but alone at night, some part of you still worries this is all a dream. That it will be taken from you when you’re at your lowest and weakest. When you least expect it.” 

All blood has drained from Rey’s face, and she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to eat breakfast. She’s suddenly not sure if this is a confession, a life lesson, or a threat. Or some combination of all three. She doesn’t ask and a loud silence clangs between her and Qi’ra at the breakfast table. 

When Qi’ra’s done filling her own plate, she looks back to Rey, holding her blinking stare with that serious expression again. “A woman is the sum of all her deepest and darkest fears,” she says quietly. “We’re all slaves to something, Rey. Bloodline, past, fears, duty, power, money… even the selfless who claim it’s all for love. Choose your master well, desert flower.” 

Rey nods and tries to eat. But she’s only able to manage a few forkfuls of food, picking at her plate and sipping her tea the duration of the meal. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a day early because I am moving today!!! And don’t know if I’ll have time to post tomorrow :)  
> As always, much love and gratitude to you, kind readers. Your comments and kudos are beyond thoughtful and mean the world to me. Thank you to Frumpologist, madi_solo, and QuinTalon for your friendship and support and time. All remaining errors are my own.

* * *

In case anyone considers the whole Darth-Vader-was-also-Anakin-Skywalker issue resolved, it isn’t. Not for Ben at least. He has questions. So many questions that he needs answered. But the thing about it is, Master Skywalker considers the matter “put to rest” and “behind them.” 

Ben’s rather incredulous over that. “How can you just say that?” 

“He turned back.” Master Skywalker blinks those piercing blue eyes. “That’s all I need to know.”  
  
“That’s a bunch of bantha fodder and you know it.” Ben’s hands tighten into fists. “Mom told me you both researched your mom. The senator from Naboo.” Ben doesn’t bother adding that he still hasn’t officially talked with his mother. That it’s all been a holomessage here and there the last year, and that overall, it’s mostly been his mom reaching out. Ben’s still hurt, and in need of space.

At least that’s what he tells himself. 

Snoke’s been hounding harder since the scandal in the senate. Since his mother went on the run. Since there had been rumors of a darkness rising from the outer regions. A darkness ready to be unfurled across the galaxy. And it’s apparently Ben’s destiny to join Snoke, as heir apparent to Lord Vader himself, and rule the galaxy. Bring order out of chaos once again. 

Another load of bantha _shit_. 

Ben doesn’t want to rule. He’d learned all about Birren as a child when studying Birren. How there was the slightest possibility the governorship could pass to him someday through line of succession. Ben never wanted that. He doesn’t know what’s come of that, if anything ever will, but he’s seen what giving everything to the senate does to a person. To a family. 

And Ben wants no part of that. 

He blocks Snoke out as much as he can in a day. As much as possible until the headaches are just too much. And he needs to hear that he’s not crazy for feeling the way he feels about some things. 

Like needing to know the truth behind Anakin, and his fall. He has a feeling Snoke encourages this because it could mirror what Ben’s doing. Snoke’s far from wrong, if so. What if Anakin had been trying to find the truth of certain things, made a discovery, felt betrayed, and went to the only place he felt he’d be accepted? There’s a difference, because Ben still has people in his corner. At least he thinks he does. 

Ben rolls his eyes as he talks to his dad via holo. Dad’s left saber racing for now, and has gone to Kashyyyk. He’s living with Chewie for now, and trying to talk his old friend and partner into a few “jobs he’s heard about.” If he’s heard “I’ve got a real good feeling about this” once, he’s heard it a thousand times. Dad even talks about catching up with Lando on “a thing or two” and Ben hopes he does. Ben’s always been fond of his “uncle.” 

That one at least. 

Master Skywalker can get the hell with _it_. 

And not stay stuck on his endless loop that explains nothing. 

“He fell because he lost his way from the Jedi path,” Master Skywalker tries again. “He came back for love. Love for his family, Ben. That’s all anyone need ever know. He came back to the good side.” 

Ben tries his old method of counting before answering, electing to throw his gathered and folded gear into his bag as he does. “You mean to tell me,” he starts evenly, “all the decades of atrocities at Vader’s hands, all the planets he personally conquered and enslaved… The torture he put Mom through when she was just eighteen, before he held her in place and made her watch her homeworld and all she loved be wiped out… All of this you don’t need more answers.” 

“No.” Master Skywalker doesn’t even flinch through the lie. And Ben _knows_ it’s a lie. He can feel his master’s unease rippling the Force around them, and Master Skywalker should _know_ Ben would feel it. So why is he telling it? Who is Master Skywalker trying to convince? “He started good with the Jedi, and fought bravely and heroically in the Clone Wars. Anakin started in goodness and light, fell, and came back. The rest are details.” 

“Then you’re a liar and a coward,” Ben snaps, stalking around his master, out his hut, towards the landing pad. He’s taking his ship to Coruscant and he doesn’t care how he gets to the Emperor’s records. Or even the old Jedi records. He doesn’t care how he goes about it at the moment. If everyone else is going to run off and dig a hole in the sand to jump into and hide out in, Ben’s going to be the only sane one among them. He needs answers, and he’s going to get them. 

* * *

Ben’s getting nowhere. 

_Nowhere_. 

And it’s driving him up. the. wall. 

Records in Coruscant are either hidden away, locked away, destroyed, or Ben doesn’t have access to datafiles. Not without his master’s approval. So he has to call his master and ask for permission. Like he’s a child padawan again, with his master not understanding the urgency of the matter. 

Case in point, Master Skywalker seems to only want to talk trivial things at this time. Things like sleep: “You’re not sleeping well, Ben.” 

Ben sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. No, I’m not, Master.” His temples are throbbing right now, too. But Ben’s not mentioning that. 

“You’re searching too hard and not sleeping. You should come back. Practice a little with Voe or Tai. Meditate with the group. Study some texts at the Temple.” 

His master is a fool if he thinks that’s all Ben needs. “It’s just my nightmares, Master. They’ll leave me alone shortly enough. Always do.” 

Master Skywalker pauses at that. “You’re still having nightmares?” 

Ben rolls his eyes because he really just _can’t_ deal with this right now. “I never stopped. They fluctuate and leave me alone for a time period. Usually when I have those dreams of the blue light, so—” 

“What blue light?” 

_Kriff_ . Ben snaps his jaw shut. He _really_ needs sleep. He’s slipping now if he’s let Master Skywalker get to him enough to just blurt out the blue light dreams. The one constant source of peace over the last twelve years. “It’s nothing,” he tries. Step one, downplay. Step two, deflect. “I’ll sleep better when I have the answers I need.”

“Tell me about this blue light, Ben. Why haven’t you ever told me about it before?” 

“There’s nothing to tell!” Ben throws his hands in the air. “It’s _nothing_. I was sad, mad, and scared those first months at the Temple. I didn’t want to go to sleep, I didn’t want to dream, but one night there was this dream… but at the same time it wasn’t. I can’t explain it. The light just comes to me. It sits with me. It’s around me and inside me. Sometimes I just sit with it and other times I’m walking with it. Or flying. Sometimes it’s playful and chases me. Sometimes it wants me to chase it.” 

“Curious.” His master manages to appear skeptical even through a blue holoimage and Ben wants to slam his fists through the main control panel. Or the wall of his ship

“Yes, Master! Yes it is.” He rakes his hands through his hair instead. “I can’t find anything about it when I research through our collection of archives. I’ve never heard of anything else like this, and I never wanted to tell you about it because it’s always been a good _something_ for me, but you’d find a way to analyse it and tell me to be mindful or cautious about it, and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to doubt this. I trust it!” He’s shouting now, and that’s a bad sign. A very bad impression to be giving Master Skywalker when talking about something good. Something he’s protective over… 

He takes two deep breaths. “I trust it, Master,” he tries again, calmer now. More in control, ignoring Snoke’s dark, mocking laughter ripping through his mind. “If you have information that will add value to the dream, you may share it, but anything regarding caution and care, I don’t want to hear it, and I’ll switch off this call right now.”

A deep sigh. “Very well,” Master Skywalker answers, but Ben knows this is far from over. “I can’t grant you access to the files you’re asking for, Ben. I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s been sealed for a reason. Ahsoka Tano’s trial was proven innocent in the end, and yet, she chose to leave the Jedi Order. All we need to know is in the official report.” 

“It _isn’t_ , though!” Ben’s incredulous again. “How can that be your final word? Everything from her proves her to be loyal, kind, just, fair, and full of compassion. She was a model Jedi—how can the report paint _her_ as the one in the wrong! Seems to me it was the Jedi Council in the wrong for not believing her in the first place!”

“Well, of course they were wrong.” Master Skywalker huffs. Actually huffs and falls back into his seat. “Councils are never infallible, but the right person was caught in the end. Ahsoka was cleared and her life spared. She was permitted to continue with the Order, but she chose to walk away.” 

“That can’t be all there is, though. It can’t.” Ben’s packing back and forth behind his pilot’s chair now. “She was Anakin’s padawan. By all other accounts she admired and respected him. Why leave? Why not stay if only to complete her training with him? There has to be more to it.” 

“I’m sure there is Ben, but it’s not for us to know.” 

Master Skywalker leans forward in his chair, and Ben stops pacing. He curls his hands around his chair, squeezing very hard instead of doing something very stupid. Like saying something else that would only lead to louder fighting. 

“If Ahsoka wanted me to know the full story, she would have told me when she met with me,” his master continues. “She found me shortly after the end of the war. I was visiting your mother and Han on Chandrila. You’d just been born. She introduced herself as an old friend to Obi-Wan and Anakin, and Leia let her peek in at you while you were napping. She stayed for some tea and didn’t say too much. She answered some of my questions about the Clone Wars and Anakin. I asked her to help me rebuild the Jedi order, to come with me while looking for things and ways to make that happen and she told me she was no longer a Jedi. That was the last she said of it before she left.” 

“Well, surely you’ve kept up.” Ben’s grip loosens infantesmally. “Where’d she go?” 

His master lifts a shoulder as if in a mild shrug. “She didn’t say. Just that she needed to get a friend to find a friend.” 

“Is she still alive?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Ben blinks one. Twice. Because this is getting ridiculous. “Have you tried contacting her again?” 

“No. She made it clear she wasn’t interested in a future of rebuilding the Jedi order.” 

Ben doesn’t say anything more, because he knows that’s that. If someone is out to help Master Skywalker with his own causes, his master is no longer interested. They end the call and Ben wonders if perhaps Ahsoka Tano was the one in the right. If Master Skywalker is this insistent on remaining blind to the truths of the Jedi when the answers are within his grasp… Maybe the Jedi had their time, and it was time to let the past die… 

Let something new rise from their ashes. 

He loathes that Snoke seems to be interested in that, too. And interested in bringing Ben along for just such a cause. 

* * *

Twelve is interesting. It’s different and Rey’s not sure what to make of it. 

It all starts when Qi’ra comes to Rey’s room one night and says, “I’m cancelling all your lessons for the next few days. You’ll be coming with me on a little trip to Malastare tomorrow. We’ll be attending a podrace, along with several pre and post event gatherings. Deethree will assist you with packing in the morning.” 

Rey is flummoxed and, frankly, so startled she simply blurts out: “Why?” It’s been a rare occurrence up until this point for her to attend things with Qi’ra for days on end during “term”—though Qi’ra’s never been overly strict with it. Just… it’s always been little things here and there as Rey has completed milestones with lessons.

“It’s time,” Qi’ra answers, squaring her shoulders. “I have need for your skill sets, desert flower. It’s time to assess what you’ve learned and how to improve your talents.” 

And that was that. 

Malastare itself is mostly boring. Rey is tasked with making smiles and showing herself as the bright, sparking, young ward of Qi’ra, Queen of the Underworld. She is to listen, engage in conversation, and report all tidbits of gossip back to Qi’ra at the end of the night. She does so flawlessly. The podrace itself is a wash, and the only saving grace is when Rey volunteers to help sort and salvage parts of their racer’s pod at the end of it all, which is when she practices some of her Huttese and learns the Pyke racer had been bribed to throw the race. She passes this intel onto Qi’ra and all Rey knows is they’re flying back to the _First Light_ with the promise of parts for Rey to build her very own speeder to keep on Qi’ra’s personal ship. 

Now it’s lots of things. Rey is sometimes tasked with slipping on board smuggler ships and copying files from datafiles in the captain’s log or nav logs while Qi’ra entertains the crew—she’s helping ensure a portion of profits isn’t being kept back in these instances. Because that would be thievery, and making a mockery of the Crimson Dawn. And the Crimson Dawn will not be made a fool of. 

It seems, though, the Crimson Dawn delights in making a fool of literally _anyone_ else in the galaxy. Rey’s given free reign to slip anything in the concealed pockets of her dresses, skirts, vests and trousers that may be useful and of great interest. Qi’ra’s only rule is she mustn’t be caught, for actual life and death reasons. So Rey doesn’t. She’s learned to be patient and wait. And wait some more, until she just _knows_ it’s the right time. Until something inside her knows she’ll be safe and get away with… whatever it is that night. Or at that particular gathering or event. 

There’s lots of sitting and talking and smiling. Rey has to learn how to take compliments and give little childish and airy giggles. She has to blush and lower her eyes when being praised, and it’s not that she doesn’t like being praised—no. Rey enjoys the thrill of knowing she’s being noticed for jobs well done. But the point is to appear innocently humble. To appear every inch the child she still somewhat is. To use that to her advantage, and make that the weakness of everyone she meets. 

She’s to let them think she’s less than what she truly is and is capable of. For Crimson Dawn. For Qi’ra. And in that, she proves over and over again that Qi’ra didn’t make a mistake in freeing her from Puse. She makes herself of value and use…

She makes herself necessary so there’s never the risk she’ll be tossed aside, and left behind. That she’ll never again be sold to someone else, because a pile of credits meant more than her. 

Yes, twelve is definitely an odd age. 

She once believed she was wanted, possibly even loved, just for herself. But a door has been forced open now. Her eyes take in a great many details she's not considered before, and she can’t unsee her life for what it truly is. That she’s the ward of a powerful crime syndicate. And that comes with duties and responsibilities. That comes with assignments and biddings and tasks. That comes with always being on her guard and at her best.

But then again, maybe she’s known this since the beginning. Maybe that’s part of the reason why she’d warned Ben to forget about her when he asked her to go with him on Lothal. Maybe some part of her always knew the dream-like days of childhood wouldn’t last forever… That it is her destiny to be one of the ranks as Chileedo… Or perhaps to be the one someone like Chileedo reports to, if she’s good enough at what she does, that is. 

She sees sentients living different sort of lives on planets they visit. She sees children with families, and sometimes wonders what sort of life she’d be living had her parents wanted her. And they cared for her more than whatever measly amount Puse gave in exchange for her… Or what would she be doing now if she’d gone with Ben and his master—no. She doesn’t dwell there. She barely allows herself to skim the surface.

She’ll never call someone ‘master’ again. She doesn’t want to be a thing of legends and ancient mystics. And, for all she knows, they would have only grown tired of her and left her behind or sold her off at some point anyways. At least with Qi’ra, as long as she keeps doing the right thing, as long as she continues to train and excel and make Qi’ra happy, she’ll never not be needed. 

Yes, being needed is a safe place to be. And besides that, she’s wanted, too.

She knows that. 

* * *

“I don’t get it,” Rey says, looking up from her datapad.   
  
“You don’t understand what, darling?” Qi’ra asks, still focused on her datafile from the black chase-lounge on the other side of the small table. 

“These records. The Jedi.” Rey waves a frustrated hand over her lap. “It just doesn’t make any sense. They fought side-by-side with the clones for years in the Clone Wars. They led them into battle after battle, and then they just… turned their back on the very thing they’d sworn to protect?” She folds her arms forcefully over her chest, wincing, because _that_ time of the month approaches again, and she’s already forgotten that a sore chest is a thing she has to get used to now before… _it_. 

The dreaded _it_. More pleasures of getting older. 

Qi’ra tilts her head. “I’m sure it’s not as simple as all of that, but unfortunately, it’s not something I think we’ll ever know the full story of. There are too many points of view and versions of the truth out there. And how is one supposed to decide in each and every circumstance who was right and who was wrong?” 

“Well, the Empire was evil. And bad.” Rey’s frowning and looking back and forth from her datapad. There’s no way she’s getting this wrong. “You… I’ve heard you talk about the Empire. You didn’t like them. So, whatever version of the story they’re telling, it’s going to be wrong, which means there has to be another point of view out there, right? They’ll always be lying, won’t they?” 

“Will they?” Qi’ra blinks slowly at Rey, and it’s… unnerving. It’s something Rey isn’t prepared for. “The Empire was very thorough and kept accurate records of money and resources, when Moffs weren’t trying to pad their own pockets, that is. Overall, they were very knowledgeable of all the natural resources available in the galaxy. They can’t have been wrong of everything and maintained control of the entire galaxy as long as they did.” 

This isn’t… none of this is sounding right. Rey shakes her head. “Something’s wrong then. Something’s not adding up.” 

“These things don’t have to ‘add up’, Rey.” Qi’ra’s voice is still and even, her gaze unblinking as her back stiffens. “Sometimes things simply _are_. It’s the natural course of it all. Everyone will always cling to the truth they prefer most and someone will always be there with a defense or counterargument. Someone will always be around to argue their way is right. It’s why the Populists have failed. With no one person around to make a final decision, everything stalls and nothing gets done. Systems fall through the cracks, allowing for syndicates like ours to establish a living out of scraps.” 

Rey almost snorts at the use of the term ‘scraps’ as she considers her room. Her closet is full of custom clothes. The grand display of wealth on this yacht alone, not to mention the wealth of their contacts out on jobs this very moment. She thinks of all of that and wonders if this is truly all she wants from life. Safety and comfort… 

Or does some part of her long to have answers to her questions. Does the part of her that remembers what it’s like to be unwanted, neglected, and then owned, frightened, and used for personal gain, want better for those hurting and in need? Does she want to be known in history as one of the takers or one of the givers? 

She’s so caught up in this it’s jarring to hear Qi’ra say, “—and all that’s left to be decided is if someone owes the other anything or not. Money, service, their life… whatever.” Qi’ra shrugs and settles back into the chaise-lounge. “It’s all about who holds all the cards, who has the most luck at the end of it all. Those are the ones writing history lessons.” 

“But…” Rey bites down on the inside of her lip. Hard. Because she has to be careful asking this, she feels. Very, _very_ careful. “But someone somewhere _has_ to have an account of what happened in each event. Some unbiased accounting to give the truth of who’s right and who’s wrong...” 

“Such absolute terms, my desert flower.” A crooked smile curls up Qi’ra’s face and something twists in Rey’s stomach. Qi’ra asks, “How do you know the Empire’s wrong? Why do you presume that their records regarding the Jedi, the plotting and the coupe, why do you presume the Empire’s documentation must be wrong?” 

“Because they were evil!” She just can’t help herself now. She’s seen planets still fighting to rebuild and go on after the devastation of the Empire. She’s heard stories of family’s suffering. She’s spoken to former slaves, now pirates, thieves, or smugglers. She _knows_ while everyone there couldn’t have been evil, it was founded in darkness. “They destroyed a planet! They enslaved entire planets throughout the galaxy. And, and…” She waves her hands uselessly. “How can they be right about this? About how they seized the last bit of control?”

A full on victorious smirk twists up Qi’ra’s face now. “And there you have your answer,” she says. “Even you won’t come at something without your bias, your own point of view. And you weren’t even alive in the time of the Empire. And you certainly weren’t around to know any Jedi, what they were really like. You’ve heard stories, met people, and visited places, and you have your own opinions. You’re going to cling to the truths you want most to believe.” 

Rey’s mouth falls open to counter, but Qi’ra lifts a finger, “Ah, ah. I need you to understand this. You must consider the truth could always be pieces of both at all times. It _could_ be the Republic was turning to something corrupt, with the Chancellor wrapping the senate around his little finger. It would make sense then for the Jedi to see a need to overthrow him… _Or..._ perhaps the Jedi saw how much power they truly could have throughout the galaxy. That fighting a war was what they needed to push their powers that much further…” She shrugs and looks back to her reading, adding, “It’s simply a matter of who had the most power in the end.”

Rey doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like this answer at all. 

But this may be one of those things to add to the ever growing list of things she and Qi’ra don’t see eye-to-eye on. Like how Rey still thinks tea needs cream _and_ sugar to be drinkable. Or that makeup is already a necessity… She gets back to her own reading, deciding there’s no point in asking anything more. She has three more chapters to get through before her exam at the end of the week, and there’s still her maths lesson to review, too. 

She has no time to spare for deeper questions of the galaxy. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own The Rise of Kylo Ren comics, nor The Last Jedi, and the events from this chapter are a retelling of their story about Ben. It does not end completely like the comic… For reasons that I hope you enjoy. We’re coming to the end of part one and I’m so thankful for all of you who have followed along and read thus far!! You make sharing this story a pleasure and joy. ❤️💙💜✨
> 
> Love and thanks to madi_solo, Frumpologist, and QuinTalon, as always! Any and all remaining errors are my own...

* * *

Lies, lies, lies. 

Everywhere Ben turns, it’s nothing but lies. He’s not bothering with terms like “half truths”, “veiled deceit”, and “white lies”. Not even the dreaded “well, from a certain point of view…” 

The planets have all conspired against him to lie. To conceal the truth from ever being found out. And the weight of lies looms heavy over Ben, a dark cloud he can never shake. It surrounds him, it's suffocating him. He’s weary with vendors and antique galleries across the stretches of the galaxy out to overcharge for exaggerated tails. He’s fed up with librarians who only have one account of a battle or “ _ incident _ ”. 

It’s been a long year since he’s taken up with these self-assigned missions. Failure is exhausting. He presumed it would be easy, finding the answers, because it seemed to him no one truly had before. Perhaps he’s being played the fool now. Perhaps the search for answers of Obi Wan, Anakin and his fall, the Clone Wars, and what led to the downfall of the Jedi have all been in vain… He feels it shouldn’t be, though. That the answers should be available for the taking… Yet he’s fruitless in most of his efforts. 

And he’s disgusted and fed up with all of it. 

Snoke taunts him every waking chance, claiming Ben is wasting his life, efforts, and potential. Master Skywalker is to the point of nagging, pestering, and outright interrogating with near daily questions about his dreams and nightmares.  _ All _ of them. Ben is vague on the details of his nightmares. They’re too much and too heavy to remember in full these days anyways. 

He sees Anakin brandishing a red lightsaber, surrounded by a sea of lava—he’s calling to Ben. Telling him it is his destiny to join his legacy. To finish what he could not. He sees Obi Wan Kenobi, wielding a blue lightsaber, raising it high. Reminding Ben who he’s named for. Who his mother and uncle are, and the legacy of light within him. He hears Snoke, always.  _ Always _ . He sees rain and storms and ruin and despair. He sees his father die, at his own hand. He sees Leia shrouded in dark-colored mourning garbs weeping for her lost son and husband. 

He sees the girl sometimes, too— _ Rey. _ Dead, also because of him. Which is crazy he knows. He’ll never see his young friend again, if he can even call her something as close as a friend after only meeting her for a handful of hours…

The blue light dreams evade him, for as much as he seeks them out. As much as he all but prays for them. To remember peace over his maelstrom of emotion… But he’s so tired from pushing, pushing,  _ pushing _ . From flying from one planet to the next. Rarely staying long at the Temple, rarely talking to anyone, save for when he absolutely must. 

He’s on a mission after all. He needs the truth. The truth to all of it. 

Even if it seems like no one else in the galaxy does. 

And that he’s as alone now as he ever was.

* * *

“You’re still not sleeping well.” 

Ben only grunts in response. It’s more of an accusation anyways. Not even back at the Temple for a full day yet and this is how Master Skywalker starts some conversation… Only, Ben’s not very interested right now, thank you very much. He grits his teeth and, in true Solo fashion, continues working on his ship. He even starts to mutter aloud if he should have thought to double-check the ship’s hyperdrive, throwing in some swearing phrases in Huttese just for the hell of it…

“Hey, hey. Sacred Jedi Temple grounds, Ben.” Oh, Master Skywalker’s still here. Great. “Watch your language, kid.” 

Ben blows out a long breath.  _ There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace. _ “Someday you’ll have to stop calling me that, Master,” he says, not looking up from his work, testing a switch as he replaces a panel. It works, so now to just tighten the lever here—

“This can’t go on forever.” Well, then. If his master is just going to ignore his attempt at a response, Ben thinks he should just ignore his master, even as Skywalker continues, “You need sleep. You need rest. You need to join us for missions again.” 

“Too late now,” Ben interjects, “they’re all off on the  _ Verity _ . Who knows when they’ll return… Could be weeks, and maybe the timing just isn’t right for us to all be together…” 

“They’re coming back tonight, Ben.” Master Skywalker appears a riled at Ben’s response and it does something pleasing inside Ben. Very pleasing indeed. His master rakes a hand through his graying hair—when had he started to look so very  _ old _ ? “You need to let this go.” 

“What?” Ben blinks as his master nods. 

“Just what I said. Whatever it is you’re searching for, it’s eating away at you, and you need to let it go.” 

“I can’t, Master.” He swallows hard; failure, lies, haunting dark laughs, and vague images of his nightmares filling his mind. “What’s on record here isn’t good enough. I need more answers, and the truth is out there. I’m not giving up.” 

Master Skywalker’s eyes narrow under pinched brows. “Why not?” 

“Because I can’t!” Ben yanks himself away from his ship, allowing himself to fall under the repressing weight of his  _ uncle _ ’s keen, piercing gaze. 

Snoke is present, brushing against the doors of his mind. Ready with that mocking laugh. “ _ Is that trouble at home I sense, young Solo?” _

Ben grits his teeth, his hold on his tools tightening so that his blood feels white-hot. He takes a step backwards. “I don’t know how this is so easy for you, Master Skywalker. But I have questions. So many questions. You’re content with stories and legends of old, but I need facts. I need the truth of how and why everything fell apart once before. 

“The Jedi were split and torn and sent across the galaxy. They were supposed to be helping in the Clone Wars—yet, the entire galaxy,  _ galaxy _ , Master, not just a few planets here and there. All these planets were primed and ready to believe Chancellor as he delivered a fake message on a supposed attack on his life that left him scarred. They were willing to approve the wiping out of the Jedi. All of them.  _ All of them _ .” 

“Palpatine was a Sith Lord.” Master Skywalker blinks, folding his hands together. As if all of this were so easy to grasp, a child could do it, and Ben’s the crazy one here… “He could have manipulated minds and votes and thoughts easily enough. And he had the clones ready to act on orders. From there it was easy enough to give the order to start retiring clones once he’d built up enough stormtroopers for his army.”

“None of that would have been so easy if the Jedi were who they were  _ supposed to be _ !” Ben’s voice echoes across the landing pad, but he doesn’t care. Tai, Hennix, and Voe are off together for something, and there’s no one here to see him fight with Master Skywalker. As an  _ uncle _ . 

“You always speak of the Jedi as if they’re your greatest heroes who never did wrong, Master. You’re always quick to rise to their defense, as if they’re always the innocent and defenseless party, and you’re guarding their honor.” 

Master Skywalker’s eyes narrow, churning emotions leeching into the lines of his face. “It was genocide, Ben. The order to destroy the Jedi was genocide, and I’m not sure what part of that is confusing to you. Why you keep protesting there has to be more.” 

“ _ The fool _ ,” Snoke chuckles, and Ben’s had it. 

He’s livid over the voice in his head. He’s tired of Snoke mocking everything Ben is and does, even as he’s trying to call Ben to come to him. To leave all of this behind… forsake everything he knows is right…

And speaking of right and wrong, Ben is beyond  _ done  _ with this conversation. “There. Has. To. Be.  _ More _ .” He keeps his voice even, because he’s trying. He’s hanging onto some semblance of calm. Holding onto sanity and patience by a thread. “What led up to the Clone Wars, the Clone Wars themselves, the order to end the Jedi… None of it adds up if the Jedi were so wise and blameless and powerful, and you have to see that someday!” Okay, so maybe he’s done with trying not to shout now… To hell with it all anyways, it’s only Geegee here with them, and he’s just a droid. “Someday the veil of blind worship will fall from your eyes and you’ll have to see that they weren’t blameless. They weren’t faultless.” 

“I never said they were.” His master says that so calmly, so coolly… But Ben knows that voice. That placating tone. 

It makes him laugh. Dark and loud, bordering on hysteria. “You don’t get it. You’ve never had to say it. Everything you do shows it. Your life and dedication. Your devotion to all things pro-Jedi, and teachings of everything being so black and white in history, when the more I dig, the more I see it’s not.” 

Ben shakes his head, dragging his free hand down his face. “They thought the Sith were extinct, but they obviously weren’t. A Sith apprentice was able to attack and kill one of them, the famous Obi Wan’s master. The order for a clone army was given without their knowledge, and they were supposed to be guardians of the peace, yet still they fought. They  _ led _ the clones as generals. Fought side-by-side in a messy war only to then be wiped out and forgotten? Erased from existence and memory, with their famed Chosen One alive and serving at the right hand of their greatest enemy for the next twenty-five years?!” 

“If that was the will of the Force,” Master Skywalker starts, “who am I to question it?” 

“The will of the Force?” Ben can’t believe his ears right now. He just can’t. “That Bantha shit doesn’t cut it for me, Master. Not anymore. Answers are out there. Whether they’re what I want to find or not, there’s more to everything. And I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I’m going to find the truth of it all someday, and not just from whatever point of view you present to me.” 

Master Skywalker doesn’t say anything else. Barely moves. He simply stands there. Blinking slowly. Breathing in, holding, and then letting it go. Assessing Ben. He can  _ feel _ his master reaching out to know his feelings and thoughts… And Ben lets him see. Lets him feel every inch of the swirling storm inside. Even allows him to hear Snoke’s sinister chortle… 

It’s only then his master’s eyes widen and he backs away. 

As if burned… 

Ben snorts and rolls his eyes and gets back to work. If his master has anything else to say, anything more to ask, he’ll ask it. He knows Master Skywalker well enough to know he won’t grant him  _ too  _ much privacy.

* * *

The nightmares come that night. Of course they do. 

Ben thinks he should probably be sleeping on his ship, since part of him is so intent on leaving before Tai, Hennix, and Voe come back. Especially Voe. She’ll only tease about things she couldn’t possibly understand…

But Ben’s here in his hut. He’s left Geegee on the ship to scan for all the repairs and tune-ups of the afternoon and evening. It feels like a good night for some calligraphy work. He hasn’t done that in a while… It transports him back to a simpler time. A time when he doesn’t know the legendary General Anakin Skywalker fell to the dark side and lived on after the Clone Wars as Darth Vader.

A time when he didn’t know all the tales and myths out there regarding Obi Wan Kenobi. How he’d never be able to live up to such a legacy… A time of following along with whatever Master Skywalker asked of him, translating the odd ancient manuscript here and there. And simply writing things in his journal.

Maybe that past isn’t as carefree as he’s remembering. Maybe he really does need that break—not that he’s admitting Master Skywalker is right in anything. But maybe… it’d be nice to see Dad again. And Chewie. He doesn’t know where they are right now, just that they’re reunited for something. 

He eventually falls asleep thinking of how faint and flickering the light of hope is… Because of course he wouldn’t see the blue light in his dreams tonight. Nightmares were the only option after the day he’s had. After all the arguing and wrestling with himself, and with Snoke. 

There are cries and shouts. Slashes of a red lightsaber in the dark. Lightning strikes, lighting up faces of the dead: strangers he’s met across the galaxy, and then faces he doesn’t know. Faces of his family, of Rey… More flashes of lightning reveal  _ him _ to be the wielder of the red lightsaber. The villain who’s slain them all… 

Bile rises in the back of his throat and he wants to drop this heinous weapon, this instrument of evil—

Something hisses behind him and he turns around… Blinking his eyes awake… Everything is a hazy blur between real and not real… 

He’s confronted with the angry snarl of Master Skywalker, under the light of his green lightsaber. The Force roils and bubbles around Ben, telling him this is very,  _ very _ real. That he’s about to die. That something’s changed between now and this afternoon and his master has decided Ben’s life is forfeit and is here to end him in his sleep. 

Ben blows out a shallow breath, summoning his lightsaber from his desk, the blue blade his only defense. The only thing to stand between life and death. And Ben’s not ready to die. Whatever mess and tangle of destiny and deceit his life is, he knows he doesn’t want to die. But he could never win in a duel against his master. Not now. Not while he’s out of practice and still tired from his last mission… 

He reaches out to the ceiling and does all he can think to do. He calls the stones and roof down. Aiming for his master. Too numb to feel any rush of pride or pleasure in the shocked expression on Master Skywalker’s face before the hut comes crushing down on him.

* * *

“ _ Nononononononono…”  _

Ben’s kneeling and can’t stop saying “no”. His hut is in shambles behind him, and no one’s risen up from it. He’s not sure how he’s made it out without any injury, but he somehow has, and he’s… 

What has he done? Does this make him a killer now? A murderer as his grandfather before him was? 

He stares at the Temple. Hating the place he was forced to grow up at. “I didn’t want this,” he says to the dark of the night. To no one at all. “I didn’t want any of this.” 

The night doesn’t answer him, though. It only laughs. The stars scoff that he ever thought he could be his own person, that he could rise above the calling of his name and bloodline. The inky-black sky mocks him for hoping he could one day peacefully leave all this behind and find his dad. Maybe even join up with his mom—

_ Mom _ … He crashes down into the grass, hands fisted. She’ll never see him again. Never forgive him for what he’s done… For killing his uncle, her twin brother… 

“I didn’t want this,” he says again, a plea to the Force. To anyone and anything that will listen. To the Temple itself. “I didn’t want to come here. I didn’t want this life. I didn’t choose this! It’s not my fault!” 

The Force boils around him, a cacophony of wild energy he didn’t know existed. It’s cold and dark, and he reaches out… Wondering what would happen if he just… took… hold…

_ BOOM!  _

He’s blown backwards by a sudden loud blast. Followed by another and then another. Shaking himself, steeling his breath and nerves, he sees the Temple is on fire. 

A fire! Destruction, death—he should help! He should find some way to put it out. He should… 

_ He did this _ . 

The thought startles him, almost knocking him from his feet. He doesn’t want to believe it, but Snoke’s triumphant laugh is all the answer he’ll ever need. His master, his _ uncle _ (he doesn’t know which is worse right now) snuck into his hut to kill him, forcing Ben to become the killer instead. And now he’s found power inside him to blow up the Temple…

“ _ Such raw power, young Solo _ ,” Snoke croons, stroking against his mind, forcing all air from Ben’s lungs. “ _ So much untamed and untapped power within you. You need a teacher who knows you and accepts all the darkness within you. Come to me. _ ” 

Ben can’t breathe. He… he doesn’t want to go. He can’t stay, but he doesn’t want to go. He never has… Maybe he can slip away and explain this to his mother somehow. Or maybe Dad or Lando… Maybe someone would believe him…

“Ben!! Ben, are you alright? What’s happened here?” 

Tai’s voice yells at him through the night and Ben feels all his hopes rise and fall in a single instant. 

“ _ They won’t believe you _ ,” Snoke warns, and Ben hates that he knows this to be true before he can even talk…

* * *

He was right. 

He tries to explain, but it’s no use. Voe’s staring at him with all the hatred she’s carried for him all these years. Hennix is just as angry. Only Tai seems to want to try to understand, but Ben’s had enough. He needs to leave. He needs to get out of here.  _ Now. _

Tai takes a large step towards him. “Blast it Ben, why?” 

“Don’t!” Ben shoves his finger in his friend’s face, the Force churning and bubbling around him again. Something will happen if he’s pushed too far, something he doesn’t want. He needs them to stay  _ away _ ... “I’m giving you a chance. Let it go.” 

Voe and Hennix draw their lightsabers behind Tai, switching them on, their twin hums faint against the roaring of the fire from the explosion. While Tai may still want to talk, the other two are clearly not interested in chances, and it makes Ben want to laugh. 

Because…

_ Because… _

Voe moves to attack first, but as usual, she’s too slow. She always, always,  _ always _ does that thing where she barely pauses, as if talking herself through the forms before lunging, and lifts her arms high. It’s almost  _ too _ easy to grab her with the Force. To lift her off the ground with invisible hands and throw her into Hennix. 

Tai’s eyes widen, whether in disbelief this is happening or at what Ben has done. 

“Stay back,” he warns. “And just… let me go…” 

“Can’t do that.” 

Hennix and Voe are back on their feet. Tai looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else in the galaxy. And Ben… Ben’s so tired still. Snoke demands he use the lightsaber he’d forgotten he’d clipped to his belt to strike them down. All three of them, but Ben doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want any more blood on his hands. Not now. 

Not ever. 

He does what is necessary, then. 

He backs away, creating distance. Allowing  _ them _ to feel as the righteous predators, with no choice but to encircle and end their prey. Then, when there’s enough space between them… 

He throws out his arm—

And reaches out—

Snatching at debris from the burning Temple ruins. It’s nothing at all to lift it and move it to the empty, grassy space between them. He’s ready to drop it. Ready to make this clean break in his life—

A painful cry tears from someone— _ Hennix _ … 

And Ben’s so startled he drops everything without hesitating. Momentarily forgetting himself and everything else, thinking he should run over or around the barrier he just created to try to help… 

But this is his chance. Voe is already throwing herself down to assist, trying to meagerly lift rocks for herself, but she can’t. Of course she can’t. Voe’s always considered herself stronger than she really is… Hennix is telling her to stop. That they can patch him up together safely on the  _ Verity _ …

It snaps Ben to attention. 

He turns and runs. 

_ Runs _ . 

The Force courses through his veins and he is running as he only has a few times before. Maybe even just once, when he was running to save Rey. 

_ Rey _ …

He can’t think of the kid now. 

He punches the ramp down and sprints up the  _ Grimtaash _ , heaving deep lungfuls of air as he slams the control panel to close it behind him. There’s no time for this. No time to waste. They’ll be on board the  _ Vertity _ and after Ben in no time at all… He needs to think. He needs to collect himself. 

_ “On board your ship now, young Solo?” _ Snoke murmurs against his shields. 

“You were right,” Ben finds himself uttering aloud. “You… you were right…” Defeated. That’s how it feels to be Ben Solo right now. Completely defeated. All strength and resolve drain from him as he pads to the cockpit. 

Geegee greets him politely. “Master Solo! A pleasure to see you. Will you be requiring your ship? I am pleased to report that I just completed a full-system tune-up. Also, I could not help but notice the rather large fire at the temple. Is everything all right? Can I assist?” 

“Everything is fine, Geegee,” he manages, slipping into his seat. “We're leaving. Now.” 

“Right away, sir. Shall I set course to your mother’s last known location?” 

Ben blinks at the droid. Once, twice. “Mom…” 

He’s lost in a daze now. In a bog. And there’s thick mist everywhere. It’s a messy quagmire of fog and trees and draping moss and he’s no idea where to turn… 

“ _ Ben _ .”

“ _ Young. Solo. _ ” 

“ _ Ben!” _

“ _ Ben, no!”  _

_ “Blast it, Ben, why?” _

Mom. Dad. Snoke. Luke. Tai.

They’re all there. Talking all at once. Questioning him. Calling to him. Reaching out. Demanding his attention. His time.  _ Him _ . 

It’s too loud. Too much… Always too much, never just quiet… 

He slams his fist on the control panel, a feral noise filling the cockpit, clanging throughout the ship. For a splinter of a moment, he wonders what slipped on board behind him… What broken and wounded creature has decided to tag along and see that he’s not alone in his suffering… Until he realizes it’s him. 

_ He’s _ the creature. 

But the ringing dies down and he’s met with silence.  _ Silence _ . No one speaks. No one is talking to him in his mind. No one’s vying for his attention and time. They’ve all gone silent, each thinking they’ve won in the cosmic pull of Ben, of all he is. 

He knows what he has to do. 

The engines purr under him, a soothing rush washes over him as he fires on the  _ Verity _ . He aims for the main engines, unknowing if his former-fellow students have made it onboard yet or not. That doesn’t matter. He’s done with killing and just wants time to escape. 

Time to run as if he’d never been here at all. 

_ Never even existed… _

“Set course for Batuu, Geegee. Black Spire Outpost.” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope wherever you are, if you're reading my nonsense of a story, you're safe. And healthy. And know that you are loved and special and cared for. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: minor character death this chapter. I have loved all the comments that have been made regarding Qi'ra and Rey... and it comes to a head this chapter... Nothing is graphic, but there is the death of minor characters. If at any reason at all you're hesitant to read, you can message me for details on twitter :) I'm @MaeReylo and feel free to ask before reading if you want to know what you're about to read <3 
> 
> endless love to madi_solo, Frumpologist, and QuinTalon for their alpha and beta reading!!! THANKS SO SO SO MUCH!!!! love you ladies!

* * *

All in all, Rey doesn’t know why she expected to be anything but  _ bored _ with her first stakeout assignment. She usually found most grown up things she's been part of that didn’t involve races or stealing something under the guise as ‘young girl’ and ‘innocent child’ to be exactly that: boring. A lot of stuffy talk, wasted food, and too much drink from what she can tell. 

But then again, she’s thirteen now. An assignment like this is an honor, she reminds herself. Normally there would be a partner or someone to relieve her halfway into the week, but Rey insisted she only needed Deethree with her. Even then, Deethree stays at the safe house most of the day while Rey watches, follows, and records. 

It’s really very simple. She’s worried it’s too simple, but maybe she’s being  _ over  _ confident and needs to get through this without a hitch. Do a good job, a  _ very _ good job, and show just how competent and grown up she’s becoming. How she can handle more official responsibility. 

She certainly felt important and official when Qi’ra asked her to come see her in her office yesterday—was it really only yesterday? Kriff, feels longer than that already. The assignment felt so… well,  _ big _ then. So necessary. Qi’ra had given her a Crimson Dawn puck with the targets’ images—not to be confused with an official bounty hunter’s guild puck. There were just some things that needed to be kept in house, and Rey’s lucky to be counted as responsible enough to receive this. 

The facts are thus: it’s a Mirialan family on CeSai. A husband, his wife, a toddler son, and a young daughter. She’s to track their movements for seven standard days and report back daily to Qi’ra at least twice daily. Since it’s a family, she’s allowed to leave Deethree to watch the house at night, and she’s been instructed to summon Rey for any nighttime movements—but there are none tonight. It’s early in the night still, and there’s no way Rey’s anywhere near tired after sitting all day. 

No, really.  _ All _ .  _ Day _ . 

This is apparently some form of a rest day or something but the family didn’t leave their house all day long. The father woke first, the daughter and son already awake from first light, and through the rangefinder Qi’ra’s loaned Rey for her mission, Rey tracks their movements throughout the house. They make a morning meal together, and it’s messy. It seems cooking is a very messy task; Rey’s not sure if it’s because it involves children or that’s just how cooking  _ is _ . The children wake their mother once the food is ready, and from then on, the day is spent together. They play inside their home and go about various chores together. They eat together at midday, then the toddler appears to need sleep. The daughter and her mother play outside, and the father and son join them once he’s awake. There are more games and such as they’re outside; a sort of play area for the children to climb and run around has been fashioned behind their house, and the afternoon continues with that until they all go back in for an evening meal and then bed. 

And they truly all go to bed. After everyone is bathed and cleaned, every last family member is in bed, and hasn’t budged from their rooms. Halfway through the day, Rey had wondered if perhaps something out of the ordinary would happen after dark. If perhaps the father or mother needed to wake for the cloak of night in order to go about and  _ do _ … But the father slips into the ‘fresher with the mother once the children are in their beds, and that’s when Rey decides it’s time Deethree relieves her and she gives Qi’ra her evening report. 

“And you’re certain  _ now  _ was a good time to leave?” It hurts that Qi’ra sounds a little skeptical. That she also  _ looks _ a bit skeptical through the connection of the holocomm. “It’s normal for devoted parents to hide things from their children and wait until their normal day is done before going and doing.” 

“The, ah…” Rey’s blush shoots all the way down her neck. “The male joined the ‘fresher with his female, and, ah…” She makes a useless gesture with her hand, momentarily unable to meet Qi’ra’s eye. “It seemed a good use of time to come back and report to you while they’re, um…  _ occupied _ . Deethree will alert me if anyone leaves the house.” 

“Very well.” There’s a smirk in Qi’ra’s answer, or maybe it’s a laugh. 

Rey desperately hopes it’s not a laugh… She stabs the toe of her shoe into the ground, and snaps her head back up. “I could go back! I could… well, after eating and practicing some with my staff, I could go back and watch at night. See if someone gets up and is doing anything while everyone is asleep…” 

It’s a brilliant idea, she thinks, and she’s delighted Qi’ra allows her to follow through with it, as long as Rey promises to only stay up and out there for no more than an hour. Rey gives an excited nod and sets about her evening with new purpose. There’s not too much available space in this little house, but from what she can tell, she’s out of the way of the main city neighborhoods. 

As is the family. 

Rey tries to clear her mind as she walks through her forms. She does them again and again, faster each time. And then she practices sparring.  _ Lunge, up, spin, jab, back, duck. Again! _ She forces grace and rhythm into her movements, retracing all her steps to appear a deadly dance. One that would make anyone regret daring to underestimate her… 

She pushes herself to go until sweat freely trickles down her head and it’s a challenge to hold her staff firm. It’s been her weakest weapon to learn with while she’s been growing. Everything about it throws her off balance, but it seems she’s finally the height she’s going to remain. Qi’ra doesn’t have to send out for new clothes every other month because her sleeves and hems are now too short, and  _ not _ in the fashionable sense. And Rey’s chest seems to have decided on its final size, too… With a heave and a grunt, she adjusts and tightens her grip on the staff and sparrs her way around the small house once more before allowing herself to rest. 

Breathing heavily, she checks her comm, finding no new or missed messages from Deethree. Satisfied she still has time for herself, she places the staff near her cot, where she can easily reach for it, if needed. Stripping her layers one by one, she makes for the ‘fresher, wincing at the spray of cold water to immediately flow before it reaches an acceptable steaming temperature. 

She’s blushing again as she lathers herself with soap. It’s not that she’d meant to peek and catch anything intimate between the father and mother… it all just seemed to happen… A natural flow and course of things. One moment the male was kissing his daughter’s forehead and leaving her room… and then he was… was… in the room he shared with the mother… 

“Idiot,” Rey hisses to herself. She should have  _ known _ . The male took the time to lock their door behind him. He hadn’t even looked about the house for the mother, just went straight to the room, locked the door, then went for the ‘fresher. And silly Rey for thinking he could be entering to have a conversation… Especially considering how quickly he’d shed his own clothing and entered the ‘fresher… That the mother had been in since kissing each child in bed.

She decides then and here she’s going to comm Deethree to ensure such activities are over before she makes her way back for that extra hour of watch. It’s already slightly uncomfortable to be watching such a  _ normal _ appearing family; she has no intention of adding ‘pervert’ to the list of things that make her squirm… 

And by uncomfortable, it’s not that she expected this to be a scumhive. It’s not like it’s Tatooine where Hutt palaces still stand tall and proud, even without their beloved Jabba. And it stands to reason that she would have been given little to no personal information about the family when given this assignment—that’s what she assumes  _ she’s  _ here for. 

It just…  _ feels _ off to her somehow. 

Something about all of this isn’t sitting right. It’s a normal enough appearing family. Quite loving and engaging with each other from what she can tell on this first day. CeSai is a mild and temperate planet, a blue and green ball with dustings of brown as the view from space when the  _ First Light _ had dropped out of hyperspace. The safehouse is tucked away in a cluster of woods that feels peaceful and safe. The family’s homestead is just further beyond a neighborhood, and the neighborhood itself is just outside the main city area. 

Rey honestly imagines what happens in this area as quintessential normalcy and peace that everyone talks of wanting.

But then again, everyone has secrets, and Rey determines to get to the bottom of what this family is hiding. 

* * *

Rey’s over this assignment. 

It’s been five days and she’s  _ so _ done with this. 

Nothing is new or different. For the last four days, since that rest day her first day, it’s been the exact same. The daughter goes to school for most of the day. The mother and son are together running various errands and meeting up with the lone friend here and there for a midday meal and the father works at a factory all day. They’re all home together in the evening for dinner and all in bed at an early hour. The male and female engage in their special  _ activities _ each night, and that’s when Rey summons Deethree to relieve her, but they’re asleep shortly after. 

It’s that. Precisely that and nothing varies from it. And Rey considers adding to her nightly report to Qi’ra that she thinks she can end this assignment two days early. That the Crimson Dawn should have all the information necessary for… whatever it is they needed it for… but her presence here is no longer required. She should be able to take her speeder tomorrow morning and— 

Her brows knit together and she bites down on the inside of her lip. Clinical phrases like that, like she’s grown up hearing for more than half her life, now help. They help her feel that distance again. They remind her this is a job, and she’s not to become attached in any sort of way. 

_ And yet…  _

Her heart clenches as she thinks of this family. It’s actually sometimes hard to breathe, which is... unexpected. Yeah. That’s a good word. She’s watching a  _ family _ . A unit of parents and children as they do…  _ life _ . They’re going about their days and doing it together. From what she can tell, their days are full. Full of love and togetherness, fights and making up. They talk, play, work, argue, and come back together. The male and his female seem to share something very special,  _ very  _ intimate. 

It makes Rey wonder about her parents, if they had been like this at all in any way. Part of her likes to think they had been, but then she thinks she’d feel remnants of that kind of affection. That love so strong and deep would leave a mark somewhere, yet Rey feels nothing. Well, that’s not entirely true. She fluctuates between feeling nothing at all towards them and still having moments of complete rage towards them. It actually scares her how quickly her emotions can go from contained and calm, and thinking her parents must have been two people who messed up somewhere along the way and felt they must have had no other choice, to the deepest rage. She’s been known to vibrate with a cold fury in the quiet of her bed, thinking it’s only the worst sort of scum in the galaxy that sells their own child into slavery. 

_ This  _ family would certainly never stoop to such lows. Rey has only watched them for five days and that’s glaringly obvious. 

She doesn’t have it in herself to spar for long tonight. She’s not even been at it twenty minutes before she stops and decides to give her nightly report to Qi’ra. Her guardian’s familiar face is a welcome sight in a world of unfamiliar thoughts and sensations. 

And it goes even better than expected: “Well, of course you should come back tomorrow morning, desert flower,” she says. 

Rey’s stunned with how easily Qi’ra makes the declaration, she doesn’t quite believe it at first. She’s very still and blinks twice before answering. “Really?” 

“Of course,” Qi’ra nods, looking down at a data pad on her desk. “You’ve done more than adequate and we’ve all the intel necessary.” She looks up to Rey, giving a pleased smile. “In fact, you need not return for your extra hour watching the house with Deethree tonight. Comm for the droid to return once you’re ready for bed and have her assist you pack your things. The two of you can bring your speeder to the rendezvous point once at 0530 tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh. Right then.” Rey licks her lips, head bobbing. She takes a quick moment to survey the safe house. “Shouldn’t have too much to clean up around her tonight. We’ll be all ready to leave tomorrow then. And… you’re sure there’s nothing more for me to do here?” 

She clamps her mouth shut, tangling her fingers together and hiding her hands behind her back. That was needy, and therefore, unacceptable. This is an  _ official _ assignment, not some child’s game. Excessive praise is not doled out to professionals. 

“You’ve done very well, Rey.” It’s a relief that Qi’ra’s smile broadens. “In fact, I was thinking that in addition to your compensation for this, perhaps you’d enjoy a retreat to Emphemera?” 

“The spas?!?” Rey gapes and brightens. She  _ loves _ the spa. They don’t go often, but she  _ loves _ it!

“Would you like that, then?” 

“Oh yes!” Rey can’t help the enthusiasm as she nods. She takes a deep breath to regain some composure, to appear the growing woman she is, and not a child. Not  _ cute _ , and certainly not silly in her excitement. “Yes, ma’am. I’d like that very much. Thank you.” 

Just like that all is right for Rey again. Things are normal, better than normal. She’s pleased Qi’ra. Shown herself useful and valuable. She’s done enough to be rewarded beyond her promised pay of a whole ship’s engine. She’s started to build her own ship. They keep it on a space port of a remote planet in the Inner Rim, but Rey has an entire room for tinkering and partial assembly between visits. It’s impossible that a job that’s ended up being so easy is worth an entire engine… let alone a trip to the  _ spa _ . 

But Rey isn’t one to complain. She never has been. And she’s not about to start now. 

She’s giddy as she showers and brushes out her hair tonight, going the extra mile of practicing one of her more complex braids before leaving for her extra hour with Deethree. She knows what Qi’ra offered, but there’s no need to slack on the job now. One last night proper night of it all and they’ll leave at first light in the morning. 

“You seem happy, Mistress Rey,” Deethree notes as she slides into place beside her droid at the lookout point. 

“I am. I really am.” Rey picks up the rangefinder and begins to check the house. “We’re packing tonight, by the way. We’ll need to be ready to leave for the rendezvous point tomorrow morning instead of coming back here.” 

“Excellent. It’ll be good to get back to the ship tomorrow. My joints are in need of an oil bath after all this exposure to natural elements.” 

Rey giggles, because her droid really is spoiled, though she would only huff and protest if Rey said so out loud. All is well and perfect. She’s succeeded in a mission for Qi’ra, a  _ real _ on the books assignment. She’s getting an engine that, with any luck, will need just a bit of tinkering before adding it to her ship. There’s the  _ spa _ to look forward to. And all continues to be quiet and normal at the house for the next half hour.  Rey’s just thinking that she and Deethree could pack up and head back to the safe house early when the explosion happens. 

A blast of yellow, orange, and red light fills her vision in a splinter of a second, without any warning, and the roar of a thousand detonators screams in her ears. Rey throws herself over her droid, who is loudly protesting, and giving Rey no choice but to slam her hand over Deethree’s mouth slot as they lay on the shaken ground. 

Rocks and debris falling around them… 

* * *

“Come on, Dethree!” Rey hisses, rolling over and forcing herself to a crawl position. Her chest is heaving and hot tears sting the corners of her eyes. “We’ve got to… we’ve gotta get out of here. Back to the safehouse. Can you… Is it possible for you to crawl?” It seems a silly thing to ask now, but she’s never considered it before.

Never needed to think of it before… 

“I’m afraid that movement—” 

“ _ Shhhhhhh!!!!”  _ Rey throws her hand back over Deethree’s mouth slot. “Lower your volume even more. Someone else was watching the house, too. And they may see or hear us.” 

“Oh  _ my _ ,” the droid bemoans at a volume that’s hard for Rey to hear at, her ears still ringing. “As I was trying to say before, Mistress Rey, it’s beyond capability for my limbs to fold and move in such crouched positions. You’d be better off leaving me behind.” 

“Not an option.” Rey grits her teeth and gets to her feet, crouching as low as possible as she takes hold of the droid’s legs and begins to drag her through the woods, hissing as the droid tries to protest. “I’m not leaving you behind,” she snaps. “You have valuable recorded data in your memory circuits and I’m just going to have to pull you until I think it’s safe enough for us to get to the safehouse together.” 

_ Valuable recorded data _ . That’s what she’ll tell herself and Qi’ra. She can’t admit aloud to herself what she really thinks of droid, that’s apparently asking for something bad to happen and Rey’s not risking anything else tonight.

Her heart stutters and races against her chest as she realizes their safehouse may be compromised… That she could be leading the both of them back to a trap… That it could already be a pile of rubble and ash. 

_ Just like…  _

A sob tears from her throat and she drops the droids legs. She takes a watery sniff and says, “I think—I think we can try to walk now.” Her jaw trembles as she assists her droid to an upright position. “Hunch over as much as you’re able to, all right?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She sniffs and swipes at her eyes as they continue through the trees, under the cloak of a black night. 

Gone. 

Gone. 

_ Gone. _

Rey draws a sharp breath, because they’re  _ gone _ and she doesn’t know how it happened. Didn’t see it coming. Had no warning or sign anyone else had been watching…. 

And they’re all  _ gone _ . 

The Mirialan family, male and female both with their pink skin, face tattoos, and jet-black hair. Rey had never been able to see close enough to know the color of their eyes, but at the beginning of the week she imagined the female and daughter having purple eyes, while the male and son had shared the same color blue. It seemed the sort of family thing to be passed on. 

Now Rey will never know. She’ll never find out. Some defensive sector of her mind tells her heart she’s leaving in the morning, and would have never found out anyway…

_ But still _ , she thinks. Now she’ll never know. Because their eyes are no more. 

Each step is an impossible feat. Rey’s never felt so detached from her own body, and so weighed down by her own bone and muscle. So aware of the pounding of her own heart, and so numb… 

She asks Deethree to scan the house when they’re within range, while she checks for lifeforms through her rangefinder. 

“All appears to be normal and safe, ma’am,” the droid says. “No sign of danger or forced entry.” 

A vice squeezes Rey’s chest and she tries to swallow. Up until a few moments ago, she would have thought she could say the same of the Mirialan homestead. “Come on,” she manages, dreading what she has to say next. “I’ve… we’ve got to call Qi’ra.”

“Oh  _ my _ ,” is all the droid manages in response. 

Rey will never understand how she makes it inside the safehouse. She’s thinking of the family, replaying scenes from the past several days over and over. Hearing their cheerful sounds… She was close enough to hear loud laughter when there was play outside…

And  _ now _ — 

“Qi’ra,” she rushes as soon as she plugs the comm up to the holonet. A wave of relief washes over her as a blue projection appears, and she grips the table as if it’s the only reason she’s able to keep standing. 

Maybe it is… 

“Qi’ra! I don’t know how it happened—I didn’t see anything! I don’t even know if we were followed back to the house and if anyone’s about to come for us, but—”

“Back to the house?” Qi’ra tilts her head, her brow furrowing. “I thought my instructions were for you to summon your droid and for the two of you to remain at the house tonight. To  _ not  _ return for watch?” 

“Yes, but—”

“Rey.” Qi’ra’s voice is very still now, her face a mask void of emotion. “When you’re given instructions directly from me, it’s very important you follow them precisely. They’re for your own safety.” 

“For my…” Rey can’t finish her train of thought. Not aloud at least. Her knuckles turn white as her grip on the table tightens. Everything is clear and cloudy all at once, and she feels sick. Her throat stings with bile and she really thinks she may vomit. She doesn’t recognize herself as she cracks out a watery, “You knew. You—this. All of this… me watching to know their habits…” 

“Was to watch and ensure they’d all be home and this would be a quick and easy affair.” 

_ All be home _ …

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” Deethree says, realizing her volume is still set to a low whisper and adjusts halfway through the sentence. “But they weren’t all home.” 

“What?” 

“Who left, Deethree?” 

Qi’ra is a calculating predator, but Rey is a tangle of emotions. She can’t decide if she’s more horrified or relieved. Someone’s alive.  _ Alive!  _

“The little girl was picked up by one of her friend’s family just after you left for the safehouse this evening.” 

“But she—” Rey can’t breathe. Can hardly  _ think _ … This was all planned.  _ Rey _ was part of this horrifying plan... She shakes her head, as if that’d do anything to chase the clouds away... “In her bed. It… it looked—there was someone in her bed.” 

“The mother tucked pillows underneath the sheets,” Deethree explained. “But I can assure you she was not in the house at the time of the explosion.” 

“I see.” 

That’s all Qi’ra says, but Rey’s mind is racing. She feels stupid for not noticing the difference. For not  _ asking _ if anything had changed. For not asking  _ anything _ . She’s an idiot for assuming when she met back up with Deethree, and not asking if anything had changed. 

She swallows hard, but it’s like trying to swallow sand, and her words catch in her throat. “So she’s… the little girl… She’s alive. At someone else’s house.” 

“Yes.” The droid is nodding. “As you well know, we can’t hear sounds in the house with our instruments, but the brother appeared to be unsettled at the thought of sleeping alone, and the mother propped pillows under the girl’s bedsheets for him. Perhaps it’d been to give the look that someone was in the bed and he wasn’t sleeping alone.” 

_ Maker help her _ . She’s going to be sick now. 

“We have to get her, Qi’ra.” Rey yanks her eyes to the holoimage as she pleads with her guardian. “We… you have to let me go get the girl. Please.” 

“And why would I do that?” Qi’ra fold her hands over her desk and leans forward. “It’s unfortunate this oversight happened, but the daughter was never the primary target. Only the Mirialan male.” 

“Only… the…” This can’t be real. Cannot be happening. Rey’s shouting when she demands, “Then why blow up the house? Why kill them all?” 

“It seemed the most compassionate option.” Qi’ra lifts her chin, just  _ that _ much. Enough to remind Rey she’s the queen of her domain. Of the Crimson Dawn. And a ruler of the Underworld. “He was one of our operatives and ran away several years ago, taking a great deal of credits to start a new life for himself. The option was there to give a more cruel reminder that there is no running from the Crimson Dawn, but he wasn’t very good at his job. I doubt he would have been much use while grieving the loss of his family had we kept him alive.” 

Nothing sticks. None of this fits with who Rey knows Qi’ra to be. With the woman who freed her. Who’s seen her clothed, fed, educated, nurtured, and trained. Taught to defend herself and fight back against anyone who would dare see her as weak and powerless again… And yet… 

Maybe it does. Maybe all the bits and pieces of her life that never seemed to fit together before finally do… And maybe she’d been too young or stupid to see it before. 

“Rey, can you hear me?” 

“Yes.” She can. Breathing is questionable, but she can definitely still hear. 

“Good,” Qi’ra says. “I know you thought you were doing something good tonight. Something to please me in going back one last time, right?” Rey nods and Qi’ra’s expression turns compassionate. She’s once again the woman Rey’s come to know and care for all these years. The one who cares for Rey. “It’s unfortunate what you’ve seen tonight, but you’re safe and there’s nothing for you to fear sleeping there once more. If you’d like, though, I can alert your ride back to the  _ First Light _ that you’re ready to be picked up tonight. Right away if you need. We can debrief in person before you get some sleep.” 

“Yes—I mean, no. I mean…” Rey doesn’t know what she means. She shakes her head, thoughts still muddled and racing. “I’m fine tonight… I’m… What about the little girl? The Mirialan at her friend’s house?” 

“What about her?” 

A silent alarm sounds between Rey’s ears. It’s something she tries to ignore as she continues. As she tries to explain. “She’s all alone now. She has no one. We can’t just leave her here. Not like that.” 

“Crimson Dawn doesn’t take foundlings, Rey. We’re not as the Mandalorians.” 

“But she’s all alone now!” Rey protests. Her head is suddenly light and this can’t be happening. It  _ can’t _ be happening. “She’s alone and we did that to her!  _ I  _ did that. I’m part of the reason she—KRIFF!” A stream of curses in Basic and Huttese flow from her lips as she crashes to her knees. Deethree gasps and inquiries for her well0being, but Rey shoves away any assistance. “Qi’ra, we can’t just leave her. I can’t leave her behind!” 

“Rey! Listen to me Rey.” It’s hard to focus back on the holoimage, but she forces herself to. An anchor in the sinking of her existence. But the Qi’ra she sees now is all business, stiff, cold, and unyielding. “This is not the same as your circumstances. You were sold by worthless fools, and then lost by an even larger fool. You’ve been kept and raised because of your value and worth. I made a special exception to my life in taking you on, in breaking my own rules.” 

“Break them again,” Rey demands, tears scalding the corners of her eyes. “ _ Please _ . I can’t leave her alone. I  _ can’t. _ ” 

Qi’ra shakes her head, her lips folded into a thin, tight line. “You can, and you will. She’s not alone. The family she’s gone to visit can take her in. Or another home can be found for her. She has a place, and it’s not with us. We are not responsible for what comes of the rest of her life.” 

_ But we are _ .  _ We  _ **_are_ ** **.**

Rey manages to nod as the words clang in her mind. In her hollow chest. She somehow communicates she’s fine to sleep here one more night, and they’ll be at the rendezvous point tomorrow morning as scheduled. She remains on the floor long after the comm ends and Qi’ra’s blue projection has faded away… Though it feels that once again, the ground has vanished beneath her…

And once again she’s falling into a dark pit. 

She’s alone. And for the first time in a long time, she’s very afraid. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter in part one! There will be a time jump at the beginning of next chapter :)   
> If you’re still reading this nonsense, thank you. It means the world to me 💙💙💙 if you’re enjoying it, I’m endlessly glad! 
> 
> Thanks as always to my alpha and beta team of Frumpologist, QuinTalon, and madi_solo. I love you ladies!

* * *

“Can I get you anything, Mistress Rey? Some water or tea?” 

_ Tea _ . The very word brings to mind memories. Echoes of laughter blending with talks of politics and growing up. Whispers of what talk Rey’s overheard over the years. What information she’s hacked into databases to find… It’s all been a lie. She’s been raised to be used. No more than a properly fashioned tool.  _ All this time _ … 

“No thank you, Deethree.” She gives a weak smile as she slowly, carefully pushes herself from the floor. “I think you deserve to rest for the night, yeah? Why don’t you power down and I’ll set the alarm for tomorrow morning?” 

“Oh very good, ma’am. Only if you’re certain you won’t need anything more tonight?” 

“I’m fine,” she breathes, shaking her head. She’s anything but  _ fine _ , but she needs silence. She needs to think.  _ Think…  _

It’s all been a lie. A means to an end. Insurance to keep Rey loyal. She’s never been free. Not really. She’s been groomed to play a part, a role. To earn her comfortable life within the walls of the Crimson Dawn. 

And Qi’ra lied. She’s lied to her all this time. She told Rey she was free. That she wasn’t a slave anymore. 

_ “There is no running from the Crimson Dawn.”  _

Qi’ra’s words flood to her mind as she packs. Returning her things to her shoulder bag. But they’re not her things, are they? Not truly. Everything she has belongs to Qi’ra, to Crimson Dawn. And there’s no running, no escape. No alternative. 

Her chest heaves again, and it’s a struggle to breathe. 

To focus herself and breathe in… and hold and count…  _ Three… two… one _ … And exhale… She tries again. 

Inhale. Hold.  _ Three… two… one _ … Exhale… 

Again and again she does this. Until the room is no longer hazy and spinning. Until she has clarity of mind to process what’s just happened. 

How it is her life has been so utterly shattered beyond repair. 

“A male once worked for Crimson Dawn,” Rey murmurs to herself. “He wanted a different life. He took some credits before he ran— probably owed to him.” A dark, humorless laugh escapes her throat even as tears well and sting Rey’s eyes again. “Depending on who he reported to.” She swallows hard, forcing herself to press on. “I was given a puck and a file. I was told to watch a house. To make note of their movements and patterns. I was instructed to report back. So that—” 

Her throat closes and her eyes squeeze shut, hands balling into fists. 

_ So that they could all be killed _ .  _ So that they would all die together. Pay the price for the male’s error. For him wanting a different life.  _

“But they didn’t all die.” Tears stripe down her cheeks, and Rey can’t move. She’s too overwhelmed to fall to the floor again… Too weighed down by guilt, shame, and fear to move towards her cot. She swallows again, but it’s a useless effort. “The daughter—the little girl. She’s alone now. She has no one. No one.” 

A rush of tears force her eyes open, and she blinks furiously. It’s no use though. They won’t be stopped and she’s left with nothing more to do than cry and swipe. Because she’s all alone now, too. She thought she wasn’t, that she had someone… A sort of family to keep her and want her. 

But that’s never been true. She’s nothing better than a tool in its case. Polished and cleaned and made ready for use at any time. 

It’s a challenge to pack through the watery blur of her tears, but she eventually does. It’s even harder to  _ not _ wake Deethree and insist she get the details of which family the girl left with. To  _ not _ race to the house and take the girl in the dead of night. To not force Qi’ra to keep her as she once had Rey.    
  
It’s the hardest thing ever, but she doesn’t do any of those things. 

Instead, she finds herself thinking of Ben. Of how he once offered for her to come with him. Almost begged, she reminds herself. She recalls how she all but pleaded for him to not be asking her those things. To not be offering her a chance to escape. Maybe some part of her knew even then what he was really offering, and how dangerous it would be for him. For his master. So, no. She can’t say she regrets not going with him. Not accepting his offer… Because there’s no guarantee they’d still be alive. That they wouldn’t all be dead already.

“ _ Ben... _ ” She breathes his name, though she doesn’t know why. She didn’t spend more than a handful of hours with him. Little more than a droplet in the ocean of her life, but it’s a happy thought. A prayer for his safety wherever he is. That he’s found freedom and meaning beyond his ties to the Jedi and the man he called “master”. 

She thinks of him and things begin to clear. And that doesn’t make sense either, but it’s all she understands. She thinks of his kindness and friendly way with her, a  _ kid _ . How he played along and showed her some workings of the Force. How the doctor said he carried her to the medical facilities. How he stayed. He’d waited and  _ didn’t  _ leave. Not until he’d spoken to her. And until she’d told him to go. 

It’s with all this in mind that Rey decides this life with Qi’ra, with the Crimson Dawn, it’s not what she wants. Not forever. If truly kind people can really exist out there, who don’t plot to take lives for their own gain, Rey wants to be free to know them. To befriend them someday. Maybe even be like them. 

And for that, she’s going to need a plan. 

She spends most of the night awake in the silence, thinking and planning. 

* * *

“Rey!” 

Ben jerks awake, throwing off his blanket as he lurches upright. He’s seen it again—the blue light. 

Only it’s made him think of Rey this time. 

And that can’t happen. 

It  _ cannot. _

Snoke is relentless, clawing along the edges of Ben’s, calling him to come find him. To come to  _ him. _ To choose him. To embrace the darkness, and whatever power he claims Ben will find there. The ability to find all the answers he seeks. 

“Not like that,” Ben whispers to the unlistening void. There’s only the hum of the  _ Grimtaash _ ’s engines to serve as background sound for now, and where it once felt lonely and oppressive, it’s comforting. Soothing, even. For now at least. 

He draws several fortifying breaths, reinforcing the shields of his mind. 

“Get to Batuu,” he starts, knowing Snoke’s always been aware of his comings and goings. But it’s not like he’s sending out a search party for Ben… Unlike what the remainder of the Temple students  _ may _ do. Or his mother, wherever she is in the galaxy. “Sell the  _ Grimtaash _ and find a crew. Buy myself onto one if I need. Introduce myself as Kylo.” 

The name may be stupid, but it’s an extra precaution. “Solo” and even “Ben” may be too well known, and he’s not taking chances at the moment. He doesn’t need the risk of being found. Not by his mom or dad. Or even Lando. Certainly not by Voe, Hennix, or Tai. 

And as for Geegee… 

Ben doesn’t know yet. It seems wrong to wipe his memory for merely being on the ship and following previous instructions. Yet, maybe he’ll know too much and be too dangerous to have around… 

“I’ll figure it out later.” Ben takes several slow breaths, forcing calm into his mind. “I’ve still got time to decide what to do…” 

Soft, cold tendrils stroke against his mind. Intending to calm, to seem appealing. But Ben’s tired. He’s exhausted from the eternal battle of the light and the dark. He’s being pulled in every direction, and he’s going to run now. He’s choosing the void of the gray, and shoves against the dark brushing against his heart. 

“Leave me alone,” he grits out, clenching his hands to fists. “I'm not yours to command.” 

“ _ You’re a coward, young Solo,”  _ Snoke hisses. “ _ And a fool. A weak mind, unable to grasp your full potential. The knowledge of all you can be.”  _

“I don’t want what you have to offer,” Ben says. In part to remind himself, and in part to be assertive and sound more in charge than he feels.    


Maybe he’s running. Maybe this is what avoiding destiny feels like. Maybe this is what it is to live in fear. 

But it can’t be a coincidence that it’s  _ now _ he’s dreamed of the blue light. That he’s felt this peace. That he’s remembered Rey, the kid who maybe had been a prisoner of fate, too. Maybe she still is. 

Maybe he can find a way to help her in finding his own freedom...


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

The sun is merciless as it beats down on Rey, but she doesn’t stop. Won’t stop. The cliffs overlooking the sea make a rocky and unstable terrain for sparring, but Qi’ra’s been in contract negotiations with one of their usual pirate rings all day, and Rey’s nothing better to do. She’s not a lieutenant yet, which means there are still certain meetings she’s not privy to. 

_ Yet _ , at least. But it’s coming. 

Rey knows her entry mission is coming. What will be required and expected of her. She doesn’t have a name, but that’s probably for the best right now. It would only serve to make her anxious, and to research him until she’d actually cared whether he lived and died. That wouldn’t do, so in the wait she’s going to make sure she’s ready in every other sense of the word. 

She trains tirelessly in spare moments, like now.  _ Duck, lunge, jab, kick, dodge left, step, spin… _ Again and again and again. Her clothes are soaked with sweat, but that’s what the ‘fresher is for. She’s not expected to be anywhere and look presentable until dinner and her concentration is on the here and now. On making her muscles cry out for the mercy that comes from collapse and rest. 

She loves it, though. Loves the thrill of adrenaline that comes from pushing, pushing,  _ pushing _ . From knowing beyond any shadow of doubt that she’ll be always underestimated by the one who stands against her, and that she’ll win. She will overcome her opponent. 

Anytime, any place.  _ Anyone _ . 

Because regardless of the circumstances, the one consistency is that  _ she _ is the weapon. And she’s unafraid.

* * *

Okay, it’s not entirely accurate to say that Rey’s not afraid. She’s afraid of a great many things on a daily basis. It would be childish to not accept and work through her fears, so that’s what she does. 

Sometimes quite literally by attacking them head on in sparring, and other times by making lists. 

Like she’s doing now under the warm water spray of the ‘fresher. 

_ My name is Rey and I’m seventeen years old _ , she begins, massaging the shampoo into her hair.  _ I was born on Jakku to parents who didn’t want me. They sold me to slavery. I have always been a slave. First to hunger and loneliness. Then to Puse, and then to the crime syndicate known as Crimson Dawn. Someday soon,  _ **_very_ ** _ soon now, I’m running away. Someday I’ll be free.  _

She remembers telling herself over and over her name and age on Jakku. It’s one of the few memories she holds from that desert hole still. Perhaps that’s where it comes from, this thing where she always breaks things, including beings, down into their simplest form; where she thinks of them in broad strokes before filling in the details. And she’s not wrong. Not hardly… 

_ Only with… _

She rinses the shampoo from her hair and reaches for an expensively made bottle, uncaps it and dots out exactly two small blotches of conditioner. Her thoughts dwell on Qi’ra as she works the product through her hair

She knows her guardian was once a scrum rat on Corellia. Qi’ra would tell Rey stories of those days to make her feel more comfortable and at home as a child. It’s aches to think that perhaps she only told such stories now to win Rey’s loyalty and affection without much effort. Or maybe there had been a measure of sincerity in it all… It’s haunting to note now, but it’s even harder to make herself not care. 

Much harder to plot running away if care is involved. 

And Rey has made herself believe she doesn’t care about a great many things since Cesai. It’s the only way she’s able to make it moment by moment sometimes. 

Finishing her shower, Rey switches off the water and grabs a towel. She pats it down the length of her body, burying her face in the fluffy material as she steps out. “Drinks, dinner, and a show,” she mutters to herself, recalling to mind the dresses she asked AV-D3PO to pack for her. 

She brings the towel from her face to her hair, wrapping and squeezing at the ends to keep from dripping back to her overnight quarters, and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she does. It’s ironic, that nothing about her has changed, and yet everything has in the last four years. She’s a walking paradox, coming closer to the mirror to inspect herself. 

Her height hasn’t changed much, and Rey’s not sure she’d consider herself  _ tall _ for a female. She’s adequate and never feels  _ too _ short in a room. Especially in a pair of strappy heels. Her curves have filled out and softened a bit, but everything just looks  _ small _ to Rey. She’s seen larger and fuller—in fact that’s kinda more the norm. But no one’s ever sneered at her assets when she’s all dressed up, so it must not be too bad. Qi’ra always gives an approving nod, at least. 

The main difference is Rey doesn’t care when she receives that now. Or maybe it’s that she still  _ does _ , and spends a considerable amount of time convincing herself she doesn’t. It’s hard to tell if there’s a difference. 

All that matters is that she’s an indispensable weapon. Only the most trusted have the most resources at their immediate disposal. Are given the most time and benefit of the doubt on missions. Rey’s planned a great many scenarios of escape down to the last detail over the years, and they all only work if she’s granted a great deal of trust. 

She yanks her attention from her reflection, and pads across the space to the closet. It’s time to pick out her armor for the evening… A smile forms on her lips and she looses a satisfied hum as she studies her hanging outfits and her fingers curl around the perfect dress. It’s dark green and long, but flashes off enough skin in all the right places to be unforgettable. 

It’s one of her favorites… And, sure, it may be silly or even childish to find comfort and calm in the process of getting ready. In the little details like deciding on just the right outfit, doing her makeup and fixing her hair… But, then again, she’s a soldier—for Crimson Dawn, for  _ herself _ . All of this is her armor, another weapon she wields.

Why not enjoy it?

* * *

Rey remembers when parties used to be so  _ boring….  _ and she’s beyond grateful those days are no more. Because now she knows how to do it properly. She knows just when to laugh versus when to giggle. She knows the correct thing to say at all times. She can tease and give mild hints of flirting with the rest of them now. She knows when to smirk and when to smile and when to offer over the barest of touches. She’s even more capable of pulling what anyone else would see as useless tidbits of information from beings in important positions, and knows the thrill of being wanted in a crowd. 

It’s all for show, and Rey knows how to make herself the star…

The alternative is that Qi’ra will never need her enough to want her in a higher up position. That she’ll never be asked to prove herself again, because she already  _ has _ … By being a failure, or  _ worse— _ mediocre, Rey runs the risk of subjecting herself to petty missions here and there for always and forever. Until “something goes wrong” and she’s either killed or left behind for dead. 

She’s seen it happen before. Crimson Dawn keeps only the best within its inner circle, and Rey would rather battle over all the moral implications of what it takes to be the best at what she’s told to do than risk being shown to the airlock. 

Does it make a difference that she’s found pleasures she enjoys along the way? Things like long, hot showers after a mission and proper cups of tea. Tea that’s steeped until its good and strong, then sweetened with at least three spoonfuls of sugar, with a splash of rich cream to top it off. She loves having a comfortable chair in her quarters, one that’s been hers for years and years, and is broken into and comfortable. She loves her small ship that she’s built with success after success, happily accepting parts and pieces and labor as rewards instead of credits or other forms of money. 

She loves attending the races, when it happens, which isn’t much these days. The First Order has been bolder in taking over worlds and stripping them for supplies and resources. Fun luxuries like starship racing tend to fall under categories like “unnecessary luxury” with the First Order. And, surprisingly enough, Qi’ra isn’t a huge fan of Canto Bite. Rey… wasn’t her favorite either the first time she went with Qi’ra, and she liked it even less the second time around, wishing more than anything she could free the fathiers used and abused for sport. 

She still loves the spa— _ kriff _ , the  _ spa _ . It’s a small luxury, and they don’t attend much. Too scheduled and it would be predictable, but Rey loves the peace, quiet, and cleansing that comes from the spa. 

And the  _ clothes _ . 

Rey’s not sure when she came to  _ adore  _ all the clothes Qi’ra sends out for her, but she has. She eventually stopped minding fittings with the tailor, and even started having her own input to add in here and there. She’s learned to ask questions regarding colors, color pairings and styles. She knows a black dress is always a safe choice for anything, but it’s the cut and design that sets them apart. She thinks gold by itself washes out her complexion, but paired with darker shades of green, purple, or red, and she feels she can conquer anything. Any  _ room _ . Any _ one _ . 

And maybe it’s the act of getting ready that’s soothing, because she uses the time to make lists to herself. To rehearse the part of who she needs to be… while reminding herself of who she is.

She’s Rey. Rey of Jakku. Tonight she’s the smiling, teasing, and friendly ward of Qi’ra. The one here to smooth over any lingering ruffled feathers after contract negotiations. But someday,  _ someday _ , she’s going to be  _ free _ .

* * *

Ben Solo frowns down at the credits shoved across the table at him. He lifts his eyes to give the Toydarian and Sabetue—a  _ Sabetue! _ —an icy glare. 

“That’s only half our agreed upon price.” He doesn’t know how he’s managed to keep his voice so calm. The Sabetue is every bit as intimidating as Dad once told him. Tall, skeletal, and menacing, with claws for hands and feet.  _ Claws _ . He’s come to see his height as an advantage over the last four years of smuggling and trading in the shadows, but even Ben’s not dumb enough to discredit claws when he sees them. 

Especially not when he’s arguing for a fair deal. 

The Toydarian hovering next to the Sabetue gives Ben a dark smile. At least, it looks menacing enough from under that drooping snout, and all those large tusks poking out. 

And Ben’s got a bad feeling about this… 

“You didn’t deliver as promised, Kylo.” Her wings flap faster as she hovers that much closer to Ben… and he’s able to smell the rot on her breath.  _ Kriff, that’s rank _ … With one of her webbed feet, she points to one of the open boxes on the floor. “The instructions were for an assortment of colored dolls, not just the blue ones.” 

“I’m not the antique dealer here, Lotta,” Ben throws back. “You’re the expert, and I’m just the guy you hired to make the exchange.” 

“Not good enough, boy.” She glares down at the group of open boxes, descending for a closer look, and missing it as Ben fights a bristle at her dismissal. 

_ Boy _ … He’s towering over her, at least two-and-a-half times the Toydarian’s height, and he’s made the kriffing run for her, slipping through the First Order’s blockade—which takes no small degree of skill and maneuvering, thank you very much—and she  _ dares _ to try and worm her way out of a fair payment. 

“Not good enough at all,” she repeats. “My customers only like rare finds, and the blue is too common still. Too easily found anywhere else.” 

“Not with the blockade around the source planet.”

“No difference.” Lotta makes an airy gesture with her hand. “As long as runners are plenty to make runs, the supply does not diminish. You bring me back only blue, and so I pay you fifteen percent of what I’ll make for only blue.” 

“Fifteen?!” Ben’s glowering now, offended, and wishing Toydarians weren’t immune to the Force… “Thirty, at least, Lotta. This barely covers the cost of fuel.” 

“Seventeen.” 

“Twenty-eighty.” 

“Twenty.” The Toydarian folds her arms, glaring over her snout. 

“Twenty-five.” Ben blows out a long breath. He hates this part of the job, and he’s probably pushing his luck... “That or I’ll keep the dolls with me and contact your buyers myself.” 

It’s a standoff. They’re staring each other down, but Ben keeps thinking of that Sabetue behind Lotta. He can’t decide if it’s growling or hissing.  _ Or  _ purring… Maybe all three. As it’s deciding how it’ll dismember Ben with those claws, and—

“Fine,” Lotta huffs. “Twenty-five percent.” She acts as if it’s a source of pain to make the payment, and Ben presses his lips in a tight line to keep from doing doing something incredibly stupid, like mouth off and have her stuff him a percentage… 

_ Buuuuuuuuut…  _

If he  _ happens _ to trip and collide into a display on his way out… And use the Force to set off a chain reaction of damage in the store… Much more so than should have already been caused… 

“Oops. Clumsy me.”

“Hey!” 

Ben’s lips twitch with a suppressed smile and he’s off, Lotta yelling obscenities at him. His boots slide on the polished floor as he rounds a corner and he loses a couple of seconds regaining balance before he’s able to sprint to the door, making for the spaceport. He doesn’t hear anything coming after him, doesn’t see anything as he punches for the ramp, but that doesn’t stop him from sprinting up the  _ Steadfast _ , yelling for Geegee that it’s time to go. 

The copilot chair turns around, a droid stares unblinking at Ben. “I thought we were trying to keep a low profile, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ben gives a dismissive wave as he huffs and drops into the pilot seat “ _ Trying _ being the key phrase, Geegee. And it seemed Lotta wasn’t as happy with her delivery as we’d hoped she’d be.” 

“Oh dear,” Geegee responds, but Ben knows the droid enough to know it’s placating. “Is that something we’re supposed to care about, sir—the absolute satisfaction of our clients even when ordered to not open the cargo?” 

“Apparently,” Ben snorts, attention now narrowed in on the control panel and his mental check-list before taking off. “Where’s our next assignment again?” 

“We don’t have one, sir.” If the droid had a tongue, he would have tutted it in scolding. “I was trying to remind you of that as you were offloading boxes, but you kept muttering about keeping a low profile.” The droid pauses and for a moment, just a moment, Ben thinks he is going to get away without— “Apparently, you aren’t the best at following your own advice, are you Master Solo?” 

Force, help him… “Suppose not. Let’s make for the waterfall for now. We’ll figure out where to go from there.” 

“Very good, sir.” 

The waterfalls weren’t the best of ideas under any circumstances, but then again, making intermittent delivery runs for an antique dealer Toydarian on Raysho, right smack in the middle of Hosnian Prime, really may not be the best of ideas for someone who’d rather not be found in the galaxy. Ben likes to consider himself nothing if not practical and one who’s able to think situations through to their fullest… and the fact that Lotta will always pay and her jobs never require a full crew are reasons to keep pushing his luck. 

Then again, though, it’s been a while since he’s seen any sort of “MISSING” holoimage of himself anywhere across the galaxy. 

A bitter laugh slips through his lips. Maybe it’s because his parents aren’t exactly in prime positions to have people searching for him to begin with. Talks of Dad getting in trouble with Kanjiklub had already made their way all the way back into the Core Worlds of the galaxy. And Mom’s on the run with the Resistance, wherever  _ they’d _ set up. Ben tells himself he doesn’t care, so long as they’re alive. 

Still… ‘ _ orange jumpsuits’  _ to his mental list of things-to-avoid. It was fine and easy enough when he worked with Zarrif’s crew, but striking out on your own means doing all the watching for yourself now. And while Ben’s taking jobs for anything between supply runs to First Order occupied planets, and antique  _ toys _ , he’s not looking to be recruited. To be  _ found _ or known. 

By  _ anyone _ . 

“I saw a Sabetue, Geegee.” His voice is low, yet he forces the words out, needing something to distract him from the pounding in his temples. And clenching of his heart in his chest. “Lotta seems to have acquired one for her store since the last job. Guess she figures her items are worth a lot more than she’s paying us for.” 

“Is that a point you’re entirely certain you wish to bring up with the Sabetue itself, sir? If so, may I recommend you rethink your next encounter, and merely focus on making it out alive. And  _ without  _ running for your life to the ship?” 

“I wasn’t running for my life,” Ben grumbles. “Just being quick in case I  _ was _ being chased.” 

He maintains he didn’t  _ hear  _ anything coming after him. He didn’t feel it either… But he hasn’t been trying to  _ feel _ too many things as of late. It’s easier to keep Snoke away in general if he locks himself away. Shuts down that part of him that knows and feels the Force… It’s also a much harder form of existence, too. One Ben’s not certain he likes, but when has Ben ever had the choice of living and doing as he likes? 

“No messages at all on the communication log, Geegee?” he asks as they land in a secluded spot within trees, keeping close to the cloud cover of mist and water spray. “Not a single job?” 

Geegee twists his head to meet Ben’s eye. “There’s talk of work on Pijal, but our contact says they’re not ready yet, sir. There was a comm of a supply run of vaccinations and nutrition portions from Bespin to Wobani, but Bespin seemed less than ideal given the new protocol for spaceports identification and background checks at Cloud City.” 

“All right. Thank you.” 

That’s that for the time being, it seems.  _ Simple enough, too _ , Ben adds to himself. Life’s easier with just a droid. There’s no need to review the comm log himself to double check that a crew member is holding back a secret job for his own share of profits… And since adjusting Geegee’s humor settings and uploading a few more navigational and historical data programmings into the droid’s system, it’s all been relatively smooth. 

Dare he even think it, but he’d probably call the droid his  _ friend _ these days. And maybe that’s more to do with the fact he doesn’t have anyone to fill the role now, but Geegee’s checked all the marks of the makings of ‘good friend’ over the years. He listened to all Ben had to say about the Temple and incident and why they can’t go back on the way to Batuu. He chose to stay with Ben and comply with all Ben’s conditions over being wiped and sold. And at first Ben had brushed it off as a simple preference to losing all memory, but the droid has shown himself to be…  _ kind _ . 

Maybe even…  _ loyal _ . 

And Ben’s honestly too afraid of what the answer would be if he asks the droid the reason behind his devotion, so he never asks. 

He crosses his ankle over his knee, settling back into his padded chair as he thinks. The  _ Steadfast  _ had been built with taller sentients in mind, that much was clear when Ben purchased her at a shop in a Mid Rim world. It was the main selling point for him, actually. It’d been an uncomfortable few years working with a crew half made up of Ewoks… Always looking for ways to make himself smaller and trying to fit in tight spaces… But there was something in her name, too. 

The  _ Steadfast _ . 

She’d felt like his before he’d even flown her. From the moment he first laid eyes on her. He’s loath to admit to himself that part of him  _ gets _ why his dad always cared so much for the  _ Millenium Falcon _ ; always poured every last credit and drop of himself into that junk heap of a ship… 

“We could do with a couple of tune-ups, Geegee,” Ben says, lifting his head, and blinking upside down at the upper control panel. “We had a couple of close calls making it through the blockade with this last run, and I didn’t like some of the sounds she was making before making the jump to hyperspace.” 

“I detected no cause for concern, Master Solo. Probably something you thought you heard.  _ Again. _ ” 

“I’m not being paranoid. You listen out for it when we make the jump this time. You’ll see I’m right.” 

The droid makes a theatrical production of an exaggerated sigh. “Since you insist on hearing things, would it be advisable for us to even make a jump to hyperspace? Should we subject ourselves to being stuck on a Core World? I’m sure we could save both the Senate and the Resistance time and resources by turning ourselves in. Even the First Order since they seem intent on _ — _ ”

“That’s enough,” Ben growls. Maybe it was time to adjust the droid’s conversation settings, too… “We’ll be fine getting to Naboo, but I’m just saying,  _ listen _ , Geegee. Listen and you’ll hear something right before we make the jump and you’ll hear it, too.” 

“Whatever you say, Master Solo.” The droid twists the copilot seat to face the main control panel. “Calculating the jump to Naboo now. To Theed, sir?” 

“Yeah.” Ben drops his leg, leaning forward to pilot them into the atmosphere, eager to get well enough away from Hosnian Prime… “We’ll see if Jantilli can use a couple of extra hands at the warehouse and spaceport in exchange for some parts and a tune up until that job on Pijal is ready.” 

“Very good, Master Solo.” 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> REYLO REUNION!!!!!!   
>  Trigger warning for assassination this chapter! Please feel free to find me and message me on Twitter if you have any questions or want a spoiler. I’m @Maereylo and happy to answers questions!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early because I wanted to!!!!! Much love to Frumpologist and QuinTalon and madi_solo for their alpha and beta readings!!!! 
> 
> I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS CHAPTER!!!

* * *

“Have you decided on which you’ll be wearing tonight?” Qi’ra doesn’t look away from staring into Rey’s closet. “Dress, underthings, and shoes? And what of your hair?” 

Rey makes a point to wrinkle her nose, declining to answer long enough for Qi’ra to turn around and  _ see _ the effect of her questioning.  _ Nervous _ questioning, at that. Her quarters are a pot of bubbling nerves, actually. Though, not for all the same reasons…Which is why Rey needs to play her part well. Own up to the roiling nerves, and deflect with standard, if not slightly clinical, answers. 

Qi’ra arcs a narrow brow in silent remark, and Rey drops her face, sucking a sharp breath as she does. 

“That long black dress, I think. The one with the high slit up the leg. Black underthings, too. I’ll leave my hair down, which may be a bit simple, but the plan is to not appear too memorable at the bar—just enough to catch his eye. And besides, the heel is strappy and delicate enough to make up for a less formal hairstyle.” 

“Hmmm.” Qi’ra eyes trace down then back up the length of Rey. Assessing, scrutinizing, and calculating. “Yes, that should do nicely. He’ll never see it coming.” 

“A bit the point, isn’t it?” 

“You didn’t leave the party the other night,” Qi’ra says instead of answering Rey directly.

It’s… surprising. Rey’s uncertain how to respond… “Was there a briefing about leaving for information that I missed?” Well, then. Apparently she’s going for blunt and honest. 

Qi’ra’s tinkling laughter settles the jagged edges of her nerves more than any cup of tea could at the moment. It’s nice hearing Qi’ra laugh; it reminds Rey this hasn’t all been  _ bad _ . That she could be worse off and there’s been some degree of normalcy, kindness, and happiness.... Between the lying, stealing, flattery, and being used as a means for the Crimson Dawn to maintain power and control. 

“Not for that.” Qi’ra shakes her head. “I hadn’t expected you to save your first time for an assignment, and would have thought you’d perhaps have enjoyed the experience more with someone of your choosing. Someone you might have the possibility of running into someday for another round if you wanted.” 

“Oh.” Rey’s brows knit together, and she’s not— _ oh _ .  _ OH…  _ She swallows thickly, making a show of flashing a weak smile, and allowing the tremor in her voice as she continues. “I suppose we’ll just see how things turn out… The face on the puck isn’t all that bad to look at, and… you know how these things… it may not even come to…” Words fail her spectacularly, and there’s nothing more to do but wrap her arms around herself. “I’m not sure how wise it would be to allow for all that. Not sure how effective I’d be at maintaining his attention.” She clears her throat, swallowing again. “But if not tonight, then another time I’m sure, right?” 

“Right.”

Everything within Rey turns to lead. Ice cold lead and she can’t understand why. For the life of her, she can _ not _ understand  _ why.  _ It’s not as if she expected a different answer. She always knew a day would come when the job would require a more physical and intimate involvement… She’s decided that’s her opportunity to leave all this time… But there’s a sadness in the way Qi’ra now looks at her. A watery sheen in her eyes that Rey swears wasn’t there before… It’s moments like these that make her almost second guess her ultimate goal is to leave… To be free. 

_ Almost _ . 

“I trust your judgement and self-awareness, Rey.” Qi’ra laces her fingers together over the swathes of her green day-dress. “Keep sharp, be safe, and don’t let your guard down for a moment. Find his weakest point fast, and use it against him.” 

“Of course.” 

“And don’t be distracted by how pretty a face he has. How ruddy the scruff makes him look or what secrets he may be guarding in his eyes. He’s angered Crimson Dawn and must be punished.” 

Rey nods sharply. “Yes, ma’am. If it helps…” She pauses, hesitating to add this, but… “He’s not all that pretty.” 

More deflection, and for a moment it seems Qi’ra isn’t as amused by the humor as Rey would’ve hoped, but then her painted dark lips quirk, and a smirk slowly curls up her face.

“Darker hair still?” It takes Rey a moment to realize what she’s asking, but when she does, she nods again, almost embarrassed. Qi’ra only laughs, though. “How very lucky for us then.” 

Short half-laughs fill the space between them. It’s not really funny, but there seems to be an understanding of sorts… It’s short-lived and Qi’ra is the first to sober up. “I don’t remind you all of these things to treat you as an incompetent child. Just a reminder. I think you’ll be the most valuable asset to my inner circle, and I want you to remember that when you’re in the moment. When fear and doubt want to take hold. When you look into his eyes and second guess yourself for that tiny fraction of a moment. Remember who and what you are, the greatness within you, and do what must be done.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” she answers. She won’t forget.  _ Can’t _ forget even if she wanted to. It’s what she’s hoped to hear for  _ so _ long. Once because it meant she was needed and could never be cast aside again; but now… Now because it’s her final confirmation that she’s making the right choice. That tonight is  _ the _ night. 

“Good.” 

It looks like the end of the conversation. The end of it, because Qi’ra has made it over to Rey, taken hold of her hands and squeezed tightly once. She’s patting Rey’s cheek, and without the sleeves or cuffs, the brand of Crimson Dawn is on full display from the inside of her wrist. “My desert flower. All grown up.” 

Words catch in Rey’s throat, a maelstrom of emotions gathering in her chest and clawing up for escape. She’s unable to think beyond this moment. To grapple with the layers of conflicting days, weeks, and years all tangled and twined together to make up her life… 

Rey’s about to leave as she once was left… As Qi’ra is now… As she’s about to leave Rey alone in her room, and this is it. It’s the last time, because Rey is  _ leaving _ … 

“Qi’ra!” She almost bites down on the inside of her cheek, because she  _ shouldn’t  _ be asking. She  _ shouldn’t _ care. It shouldn’t matter…  _ It’s something you’d normally ask, you moof-milker _ , she reassures herself.  _ Calm _ .  _ Breathe _ . 

“What is it?” 

Qi’ra is facing Rey again, unmoving and unhurried. She’s not impatiently snapping or demanding for Rey to get on with it because there’s a meeting or something else more important for her to tend to…. And just like that, Rey’s transported back in time. Back to eleven years ago, when Qi’ra smiled and talked to a six-year-old slave girl. One who didn’t even know her own age, and had clumsily stolen Calamari Flan… 

Rey breathes in the memories, holds in the happiness, and releases a slow, steady breath. “Was your first time for a cause? For someone else?” 

“It wasn’t.” Her response is so immediate—so  _ kind _ , and reassuring. “It was with someone of my own choosing. He was a bit of an oaf, there was a fair amount of fumbling and we were so dirty from running the streets for Lady Proxima that day.” The years seemed to melt from Qi’ra before Rey’s eyes; a blanket of something soft and cherishing falling over Qi’ra. A blanket so long and wide it’s fringes touched Rey. Warmed her through for a singular moment. “But he had this way about him that always made me feel safe, this cocky cheer. We were gifted with a few more chances to get it right and take the time with each other.” 

“What happened to him?” Rey breathes, momentarily transfixed by the thought of Qi’ra as anything but Queen of the Underworld. Of “fumbling” at anything… “Did...did you ever get to see him again after… after Dryden Vos?” 

“He got out.” Three words. Three little words is all it took for the blanket to be snatched away, and Qi’ra’s decisive resolve in everything to return. For the queen to remember her place. “He got out and I was sold away. And for many nights after that I used to tell myself that life would have been better ‘if only’, but there’s no way of knowing that. The galaxy is a lot smaller than we realize and people have a way of turning back up until one of you dies.” 

Cold fear slices through Rey and her lips flatten into a thin line. All air is frozen in her chest and she can’t feel her heartbeat 

“Chin up, Rey.” Qi’ra speaks and Rey focuses on her guardian. On the teasing lilt in her tone. “A spa retreat is in order after this. And perhaps arrangements can be made for something special as an added bonus for your success… A handsome stranger, someone with dark hair, perhaps?” 

“I… Yeah, I like—that is… thank you…” It’s weak, and lame, but Rey’s really at a loss for what else to say. She’s floundering in the wake of  _ teasing _ , and is more grateful than she can say when Qi’ra winks and turns around and makes for the door. 

* * *

“Darker hair, indeed.” Rey huffs and fiddles with a lever on her control panel as her ship hurls through hyperspace. “It was just a crush, and who  _ wouldn’t _ have found Mister Hirrean attractive?! Honestly…” 

She’s fixating and she knows it. She’s found every last little thing to dissect and complain over the last half hour, but there’s only so much silence with her own thoughts she can tolerate. Only so much repeating of the plan to herself before her nerves take over and she’ll wonder if she can do this after all… 

And she  _ can _ . 

She can and she  _ must _ . 

She doesn’t know when a chance like this will ever come again.  _ If  _ it’ll ever come up again. Or  _ what _ she’ll be required to do in the meantime…

One dark blot against her in exchange for a lifetime of freedom. For the ability to make her own wrong choices… with the hope of a few good ones to be found in there, too… Yes, it all seems worth it, then. 

Her eyes float up to the upper control panel. To the slotted space for wires… to where one of three trackers are hidden on board her ship. She spent the whole of yesterday working to find them all. She informed Deethree to tell Qi’ra she wanted to be sure it was in perfect working order herself, and decline all assistance of mechanical droids. She’d hoped it would appear enough of a means of gathering and calming her own nerves before this assignment, but, really, Rey needed to be alone to find all evidence of the Crimson Dawn on her ship. 

There’s the tracker hidden in the wires of the cockpit, the one hiding in plain site near her landing gear, and finally the one concealed within the mechanisms of the left wing… Where they must have presumed Rey would never,  _ ever _ look. 

The fools. 

It’s their pride in her upbringing that will be their downfall today. Their underestimation of her mind. Of her love of flying and all things ships and what’s  _ hers _ . What they view as weakness, the fact that life is somehow still precious to her, that choice is still something that matters to this former slave, today it is her strength and guide. 

She’s an entire arsenal of reasons at her disposal. And today she’s aiming every last one of them at the ones who taught her how to use them. 

* * *

He’s a pretty face, Rey can admit that. The scruff could be considered a solid, rugged look for him. His eyes are a compelling blue, and his hair, while not the right color and cropped far too short for Rey to find it attractive, it’s obviously neat and trimmed. And there seems to be a taut body under a tight shirt...

Rey knows his name. Knows all of his background, but reminds herself to play dumb. To play the interested stranger with a sly smile.

It seems to work. He quirks a dark brown eyebrow at her and jerks his face in an invitation for her to join him at the bar. 

The fool. 

She’s willing to do what’s necessary next to get this job done. To be free of it all. But she’s 97.824635% certain this can all be accomplished without even making it to the room already paid for… Without giving up her first kiss. 

And that makes her smile. 

She likes the idea of protecting something that’s her very own, and giving it when it’s by her own choice, not for the job. 

Speaking of the job… she keeps her steps slow as she crosses the room. They’re calculated. Just enough to allow the dress to do its work. The way his eyes track down then back up her body, the way they’ve darkened when they’re locked back on hers… She knows she’s at least captured his attention. 

“How’s the drink?” she asks, nodding at the half-gone glass resting in front of him. 

“Perfect.” His fingers curl around the glass and he lifts it to her in an unspoken thanks. “Care to join me for another round?” 

“Love to.” Rey slides into the seat beside him, fortifying her mask as she does. The mask of someone looking for a good time. She forces her hands to keep still as the slit in her dress widens and more of her thigh is exposed, to  _ not _ reach down and keep the creamy skin hidden away. “Rough day?”

“Yeah, but something tells me it’s about to get better.” His voice is low, and there’s a husky gravel to it that tells Rey this won’t be hard at all. 

An alarm sounds in her head as the night goes on. Minutes bleed into hours, and they’ve exchanged breathy laughs and light, but lingering touches… And Rey is worried this is too easy. That he’s all but giving himself over to her. He’s given her a name she knows isn’t his, and when she gives him a name that isn’t hers, he doesn’t react. She can’t tell if he knows it’s not hers or not… But he accepts the story easily enough about a blood disorder where she can’t drink, and offers to put her fizzy waters on his tab. She declines with a wink, telling him he can another time. Tonight’s on her. 

“One more? Last for the night?” she asks, her finger tracing a mindless pattern over the inside of his forearm. 

“Last one  _ here _ perhaps?” he amends, signalling the droid bartender for another round. 

It’s an explosion in her mind, an explosion of success and victory and one that shouts that she’s almost  _ free _ … But she forces a playful smile as she hums into her glass. “Where would the next one be?” 

“Wherever you’d like.” 

“I like the sound of that,” she answers, leaning into his space as their drinks are delivered. Her bracelet slides down to cover the wrist of her left hand, the tiny compartment of Manax-root poison a mere application of pressure away from her fingers. From his drink… She shifts and allows the inside of her exposed leg to brush and then rest against the inside of his. 

They both drop their gazes, but she can all but  _ feel _ the smirk that splits his face.

_ It’s working _ . She _knows_. She  _ feels _ it. 

“Tell me then…” She leans that much closer into him, her right hand tracing up the length of his arm now, playing over the taught curve of his shoulder, her lips ghosting over his ear… Blocking his view from his drink... “Would you have any ideas for once we’re alone in this different location? Or is it too much to hope we’d have some privacy?” 

“Anything you want.” He groans as she hums against his ear, his hand over her knee skirting up her still-covered leg, his grip tightening…

_ Now _ .

It’s a flash of a moment, a practiced press of her middle finger against her bracelet right over his glass as she dots kisses under his ear… along his jaw… buying herself some extra moments for the poison to dissolve as he groans and sinks into her touch… 

The droid behind the counter makes a sound that mimics the clearing of a throat, and Rey wills a blush to her cheeks as she pulls back. “Oops… lost myself for a moment.” 

“I’m not complaining,” he says, taking up his glass. “And neither are they,” he chuckles darkly, saluting some smarmy, smirky patrons from across the room. “Cheers to the night.” 

“Cheers,” Rey clinks her glass to his, drinking deep as he takes a long, slow sip. A simple touch is potent enough to act in as little as half an hour, the amount dumped into his drink… determining he’s just had half the dose… She has about five minutes to get him out of here. Maybe ten… 

She begins counting breaths in her head, ticking off seconds as he drinks again and she studies his movements… His face and breathing for signs… 

A twitch of his eye. Followed by a blink that lasts too long to be normal.

It’s time to leave. 

“Come on, then,” she murmurs, threading her fingers through his, slipping from the seat. “Lead the way.” 

And that’s precisely what she lets him think is happening in his final moments—lead her from the low-lit, upscale cantina, and to wherever is planned next. It’s dark enough if they head east from the entrance to literally dump the last vestiges of her life behind… But he wants to go west… which is fine. Lit enough to not be ideal, but she slips her arm around his torso as his movements slow and he starts to stagger… She giggles and teasingly asks if he’s sure he’s up for whatever comes next. 

“I… yeah…” He blinks several times at her, as if to chase away the fog overtaking his mind. “I’m all right…I’m… all…” 

But he never finishes. 

Rey fortifies the muscles in her legs, barely catching herself in time from stumbling under… under dead weight. Literal dead weight. 

Because he’s gone. His name had been Dormane, and whatever life force had been in him before had left. 

Her grip tightens around his back, under his shoulders, and she adjusts her hold on his limp arm around her shoulders… And grits her teeth, keeping her steps slow and steady as she carries him away from the light… Jaw tight, breathing only what was necessary until she can lose his body in the dark of an alley…

Something cold washes over Rey, and she jerks her head in search of the source. There’s none that she can find, though. All is dark and still, and the gentle night breeze is warm. Even so, she’s cold, the hairs of her arms standing up on end. She reminds herself to breathe— _ how  _ to even breathe. He’s impossibly heavier, and the weight over her shoulders sinks down into her chest as she leaves his lifeless body behind some bins and takes a winding path back to the space port. 

* * *

Breathe, breathe,  _ breathe. _

In. And out. 

Inhale. Exhale. 

Review the check-list.

She’s slipped by the night watch to steal onboard Dormane’s ship, because of course she knows which one is. And now she’s checking for trackers. Two of the three she found on hers are of the same make and model, but she knows there are a few other types on the market out there. She hasn’t found any, but still she debates if she should move the trackers on her ship to this one… Or if she should take Dormane’s as she originally planned. 

Taking his ship could alert someone watching that something is off… But she’s concerned one of those models could trigger an alarm of sorts if removed from hers…

“There were many plans for the night,” she mutters to herself. “I reviewed several options with Qi’ra. Nothing should draw attention until I’m long gone. Just need to decide which ship…”

She needs to decide. She needs to stop second guessing himself. 

She needs to get. a.  _ grip _ .

This is happening. She knew it was going to happen. She’s heard of assassinations over the years, but hasn’t seen once since CeSai… 

_ CeSai— _ NOPE! 

“His ship it is, then!” Rey exclaims, forcing herself to get a grip and take her time with the search. There’s nothing inside the ship that she can find, and from the bottom of the ramp, she’s not able to find anything immediately alarming.

Except for… “Escape pod,” she breathes. It looks to be in functioning order from the outside, and she yanks off her shoes as she rushes back up the ramp… “Functioning and usable. Yeah, his ship will be best.” 

Regardless if there’s a tracker on the top exterior of the ship, she can make an escape and crash the ship, aiming the pod for Naboo's moon. “Perfect. This is good. Good, good, good, good, good, good.  **Good** .” She’s no idea who she’s talking to, maybe it’s just to keep herself calm and steady. And reaffirm this will work. 

It  _ has  _ to. 

“It will. The math has already been done, and his fuel…” She squints at his supply gauge… “Yeah, plenty to make it there. Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Okay…” 

She drops her shoes, the  _ THUNK _ echoing in the cockpit, startling her. Reminding her she needs to keep it together and get a grip. 

“Not out of this, yet,” she hisses, studying the control panel. It’s precious seconds, but they anchor her to the moment. Tether her back to the plan. To something within the realm of her control. 

“I’m Rey,” she says, dropping into the pilot’s chair. “I’m almost free.” 

* * *

Crashing doesn’t go according to plan. 

Not at all. 

She’d hoped to land on the  _ other  _ side of the moon, where she can barter passage on a mining ship to make deliveries to another obscure planet. She doesn’t have much within her handbag from the evening, just some credits and enough Calamari Flan to get by for a little while. If needed. She plans on working soon, though… 

But she doesn’t plan for landing in a jungle.  _ Jungle _ . 

And walking all day long to make it to a city. 

_ All. Day _ . 

She’s walked barefoot through the rugged terrain of rocks, mud, and large, gnarled tree roots. At some point, when the sun had begun to dip low in the sky, a Gungan in a speeder had taken pity on her, asking if she wanted a ride for the rest of the way into the city. 

He’s extremely enthusiastic as he declines payment when she offers, insisting “hesa happy to-ah help.” Rey’s feet protest angrily as she tries to shove them back into the strappy shoes and smooth down her hair. 

“Yousa looking fine,” the Gungan says, stopping the speeder. “Very pretty. Theysa gonna be happy to-ah help yousa. Dey all business and serious at-ah da space port. Jantilli is-ah nice, too. Mesa think yousa start here.”

“Thank you.” Rey gives him a warm smile, slipping two credits in his hand as she shakes it. She doesn’t look back as he yelps and calls for her. He helped her when he didn’t have to, and she’s grateful. And it’s not much, but maybe it can go some distance with lightening the weight still heavy in her chest. 

The owner and manager greets her: “Jantilli,” he says as he proffers a hand. And yes, he’s nice enough, Rey decides. He doesn’t raise an eyebrow to Rey’s dress or the shoes in her hand. Doesn’t comment on her messy and possibly disheveled appearance. Doesn’t ask anything beyond a simple “rough day?” 

“You’ve no idea,” she answers, quickly diverting attention from her person to inquire after ships. Used options available, and even what public transportation off the planet would look like.    
  
“Well, that’s an option, yeah, but lemme grab my datapad and show you what we have available for not too much. Give me just a minute...” 

He punches a code on a keypad and disappears through a door, leaving Rey to take a look about the place. To take in the organized row of ships and droids busy about their stations. There’s still a busy hum about the establishment, regardless of the fading daylight, and she supposes that’s lucky for her. Her stomach growls loudly, and she wraps an arm around her middle, the one with her shoes and handbag… 

And, of course, she somehow manages to open said handbag, spilling its contents across the floor…  _ Of course _ …

“Damn,” she mutters, stooping down to gather credits before chasing down the white and blue discs of Calamari Flan, rolling to the furthest and most inconvenient places… She’s almost gathered them all up, when a figure in black looms in her peripheral vision. 

She’s ready to run, to bolt as far from here as fast as she can when she decides for a second glance, to be sure…

Everything in the galaxy comes to a grinding halt, and  _ no _ , that’s not an exaggeration. Because she’s in the same place at the same time as someone she never expected to see again…

“ _ Ben _ ?!” she blurts out, eyes wide. “Ben Solo??” 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my love to Frumpologist, madi_solo, and QuinTalon!!!!   
> AND TO YOU!!!!! ALL YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE! I’m so thankful to every last one of you who open this story and read and kudo and comment 💙💙💙💙it means the world to me   
> Thank you all so much

* * *

Ben doesn't know any prostitutes—at least, not that he's aware of. And then there’s the thing about no one calling him by “Ben” anymore, minus GG-728, and that’s only on the privacy of their own ship. So, it should come as no surprise to anyone that first things first, he’s too shocked to respond when this girl— _ woman— _ all decked out, shouts his birth name. 

At least, he  _ presumes _ she was all dressed up for some reasons previously. He frowns as he fully takes her in, and it has nothing to do with the fact she’s calling out his real name. No, it’s because her long, drapey black dress, that looks as if it’s been tailor made for her, clinging to all the right curves, with a slit that— _ kriff _ . His mouth runs dry, and it’s suddenly as if he’s attempted to swallow a mouthful of sand. 

He drops his arms from whatever it was they were doing, he’s forgotten now. Because she’s  _ filthy _ —and, no, he does  _ not _ mean that in any sort of double meaning way, thank you very much, internal laughing voice of Dad. Ben’s fully aware that at some point the dress must have been pristine and spotless, but there’s mud and mud splattering everywhere.  _ Everywhere.  _ And the way that her face is all flushed and hair is so… 

He closes more than half the gap between them in three long steps before he realizes what’s happening. 

“Are you… are you all right?”  _ Oh _ ,  _ I guess I’m assessing the status of her well-being then. Got it.  _

She does the unexpected and draws back from him, bare feet, muddied and looking as if they’ve had a rough recent several few hours, immediately spreading into a widened stance. It dawns on him that she positioned herself to fight him just as she answers, “Fine, Ben. I’m fine.”

The forced flatness of her face argues she’s anything but fine.

“Kylo,” he tells her, guessing he’ll address first things first, and taking another two steps, smaller, more careful, steps towards her. 

“What?” 

“Call me Kylo. Jantilli doesn’t know me by any other—” 

“Good news!” Jantilli begins, bursting from wherever he’d vanished to; Ben hadn’t been paying that much attention. His eyes stay fixed on his datapad as he maneuvers his way towards them. “I’m in the process of finishing up with a couple of smaller one-seater options and then there’s a two-seater. And then when it comes to the ships, I’m almost done with—”

“I’ll show her what’s almost ready.” The words are out of Ben’s mouth before he knows what’s going on. Before he can think to understand why he’s offered to take time away from his own ship and actually try for conversation with a beautiful woman, when he’s already  _ pretty  _ sure he knows how that’s going to go (read: not well. Not well at  _ all _ ). 

Jantilli looks up now, his face all pinched with confusion. “You don’t work here, Kylo.” 

“As good as.” Ben shrugs and motions about area, still not sure why he’s going to such lengths to be convincing. “C’mon, I’ve been here a week already and not much has changed since the time I was here before. And you said yourself opening this morning you’re in deep Bantha fodder if you stay here late again tonight. It’s already mostly dark now.” 

Jantilli swears aloud, jerking his head to a window. “Oh dear, oh dear, so it is already. Pardon my language, miss, but oh dear… I’ll need to purchase some flowers I think… I hope Monda’s isn’t closed...” 

He continues muttering and sputtering about, leaving his datapad on his desk and collecting his personal effects. Ben would almost laugh at it, because it’s nothing out of the ordinary, and there’s no telling how long this relationship will last either; Jantilli hasn’t the best of luck in that particular arena in all the time Ben’s known him… Not that Ben would know what that looks like. And anyways, laughing hardly seems a good idea, as he peeks at the woman to see she’s appearing less and less confident in her surroundings by the second. In fact, she appears ready to run out the open main door any moment. 

_ What’s happened to her? _

It’s worth the risk, he decides, not bothering to follow as the woman follows after Jantilli, talking of transports and time tables… Ben permits himself to not pay attention there, to clear his mind… and opens himself to the Force. 

Inhale. And  _ reach out _ … Fear. Large and looming and so overwhelming at first it almost chokes him. He loosens a shallow breath, focusing his insight just a little more… There’s Jantilli’s anxiety, but it’s mild in comparison to what he feels from the woman, from the cold, tangled web of fear, anger, and… and death.  _ Death _ … 

His gaze traces the woman, taking in the mud, grime, and otherwise ruining of her dress. The dress itself leaves little to the imagination as she moves and gesticulates wildly. There are small leaves caught in her hair, and all Ben can really decide is that she needs help, and he’s going to be the one to help her. 

Something sharp and pointed drags over his mind. Like a sewing needle, or the tip of a claw… He shivers and gathers himself. Snoke hasn’t broken through in years. And Ben’s not about to let that happen now. With a long, slow exhale, he shuts down his connection to the Force, that little part of himself that cries out to stop being ignored… He does as he’s been doing and pays it no mind, locking every last door to his mind as he retreats from the Force. 

“Really,” the woman’s saying as Ben becomes aware of the conversation again, “you’ve got to know of  _ something _ still leaving tonight. In the next city or town over even. I’ll buy a speeder if you have one. Or just the one-seater here and now. We can make the deal and you can be on your way.” 

“Can’t get it started now. Too much legal work you’ll have to sign for and note and detail and I’ll have to have the droid do another final inspection in your presence and don’t wanna rush that, do we?” 

Jantilli’s waving her off, and Ben moves forward. Slowly. Cautiously, lest him and his lumbering self give her anymore reason to feel afraid… 

“Then I’ll leave you my name to fill in the blanks tomorrow!” she protests again, a desperate shrill coating her words. “Or have a droid take me to another city where I can find off-world transportation that still runs after sundown.  _ Please. _ ”

“Kylo can take care of that!” Jantilli slings his bag over his shoulder, rushing to the door. “He’ll take care of anything, but if I don’t leave—oh, I hope Monda still has a bunch of those lovely Nova lilies… Goodbye, Miss! I hope you—oh, there’s Monda locking up now! Goodbye!” 

The proprietor bumbles off, moving as fast as Ben’s ever seen him, yelling to whoever Monda is—Ben’s never met the person, never had a reason to buy flowers; something in him thinks he’d change that for this woman if he could. If it’d bring any sort of smile to her face… 

_ Whomever _ she is. He still hasn’t placed her. 

And she’s facing him now, her stance once again rigid and prepared to fight if necessary. At some point she placed her shoes and handbag-thing on Jantilli’s circular desk, and balled her hands into fists. “I… what’s just happened—actually never mind answering; I don’t have the time to wait for it. I should have been on a ship hours ago and—” Her jaw clamps shut, a slight tremor visible from where he’s standing, and there’s a watery sheen to her eyes that she seems to be trying to banish away with several furious blinks. “Please help me, Ben.” 

It hits him like a bolt of lightning.

He knows that voice. That nose and those deep brown eyes and those freckles and the way that voice says his name. 

“Rey!” He blinks at her several times, dumbfounded. Awestruck, and more aware of just how much of an idiot nerf-herder he is. “Kriff,  _ Rey?!” _

“Yes, of course it’s me, didn’t you— _ oh! _ Put me down!” 

Every instinct within him screams to not do that, not when she’s muddied and tired and obviously is in need of some form of help. Not when he’s wasted precious minutes  _ not _ knowing exactly who she is and assisting her with anything and everything she needs—but her words are followed up by a blinding pain to his crotch, and he has no choice but to comply with her request.

* * *

Pain. Ben’s in a lot of pain. The seeing stars kind of pain that makes him double over and groan loud and low, like a wounded animal.

“Beg your pardon, sir, but is that you that’s sounding like a dying tauntaun? Or has one somehow found its way into this warehouse and managed to get itself killed?” 

Geegee. Always a delight that droid… 

“S’fine. I’m fine.” Ben grunts as he lifts himself back to his feet, focusing on Rey. “I… sorry. I’m sorry for the hug… for startling you and touching you without—” Her brows shoot up onto her messy hairline and Ben’s face  _ burns _ . The blush spreads down his neck and reaches up to the tips of his ears—he  _ knows  _ it, and oh… kriff. This isn’t going well. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just it’s been… and I wondered how you’ve been for years, and here you are, and…” 

He drags a hand through his hair and an irritated huff falls from his lips. This is damn difficult and for as much as he’s  _ hoped  _ to see Rey again, to know she’s safe and all right… he’s at a loss when confronted with it. Words and thoughts spark and whirr, and cogs turn, but they produce nothing.  _ Nothing _ . And he can’t understand, because he’s never been one to be at much of a loss for some form of explanation to things. 

Not that he thinks, at least. 

“All right, yes. I’m here.” Rey’s stance...well, it softens. There’s no other way he can think to put it. She’s not as taut and ready to strike out in defense… or offense if she needs. But she seems to believe now there’s no immediate threat. “And, and it’s good to see you, too, Ben. Really good, actually.” 

“Yeah, I… I’ve been wondering how you… you—you look good by the way! Apart from all the dirt and stuff, and… Actually, let’s get back to my original question: are you all right?” 

“What makes you think I wouldn’t be?” Rey brings a hand to her hip, her gaze narrowing at him. It’d actually be more menacing and fierce looking, if not for the loud growl that suddenly sounds from her stomach, breaking her stance and the moment. 

GG-728 spares him from having to think of a response that won’t come across as teasing or laughing, blurting out the facts as they are. “Master Solo is far from stupidly unintelligent and can at the very least draw simple conclusions from the mess of your attire and the fact you’ve been making a great fuss of needing immediate transportation,” he says, twisting his unblinking face between the two of them before focusing on Ben. “Am I to presume that you’re not in any immediate danger, sir?” 

“I’m fine, Geegee.” Ben looses something between a huff and a flushed chuckle. Rey seems to be biting down on the inside of her cheek and Ben’s rubbing his hand over his chin then dragging that same hand through his hair before he realizes just how nervous he is. It’s ridiculous and entirely unsettling how kriffing nervous he is. 

But then again, considering the cloud of fear over Rey, perhaps he has reason to be… 

“I’ve got an idea, okay?” He points to the main entryway. “I’ll go ahead and lock up the port. Have the droids stop working for the night, too and switch off all the lights.” He sidesteps, pointing back in the direction of his ship as her mouth falls open in what he thinks will be outright protesting, but he’s rushing words before she can speak. “We’ll be on my ship, okay? I’ll grab the datapad if you want to keep looking at what Jantili has, or we can plan for me to fly you out to another city if you want. But you need food. And maybe even a place to freshen up, if you’d feel safe enough for that.” 

He doesn’t know why he’s kriffing blushing over that, why he feels the need to rush out that last part… But it’s Rey. The girl from Lothal. The one he  _ knows _ the Force led him to meet. To help once before. 

Perhaps he’s meant to again… 

“Fine.” Maybe she feels it, too. Or maybe it’s just practicality that’s winning over because she starts fiddling with her hair and seems to sneer at her shoes as she gathers them, along with that hand-purse-thing. “But only if you do exactly as you said and lock things up. And promise you have food onboard your ship?” 

“He does.” 

“I do! And tea, too!” He waves over to Geegee. “This is GG-728 and he’s… well, he’s with me now. He was a droid at the Temple, and you can trust him. You can trust both of us. He’ll take you to the galley while I close up out here. Get you fed and then we can talk, all right?” 

The way she’s looking at him, right at him… Like she’s looking  _ into _ him. Reading his very soul... Seeing and deciphering hidden things he himself doesn’t know. He should hate it. He ought to turn around and run from such exposure. Sprint to his ship, fly off, and never look back. 

He does none of those things, though. And even goes so far as to release a relieved sigh when her lips bend in an almost smile. 

“All right, Ben.” 

It’s a simple thing to watch her follow GG-728 to his ship, to follow her movements as she steps lightly up the ramp, shoulders back, chin held high… But it feels like a great deal  _ more _ . 

It feels like trust. And the weight of it is a gift more precious than anything Ben’s ever received before.

* * *

Ben lied. 

The man kriffing lied to her and Rey’s so muddled and disappointed and  _ so damned hungry _ she’s seeing red. Red stars from being so hungry.

Nutrition bars are  _ not _ food. And this brown liquid in her cup isn’t  _ tea.  _

“Is there anything else I may get for you, Miss?” the droid— _ GG-7something? _ —queried. 

_ An actual meal _ , she thought, gritting her teeth. But she forced herself to smile, giving a polite shake of her head. “No, thank you. This will do nicely, Geegee… I’m terribly sorry, but I seem to have forgotten your name.” 

“GG-728, but Master Solo usually shortens it to Geegee.” The droid gives her a slight bow before he returns to fussing about the small galley. 

_ Adequate _ , Rey tells herself as she looks back to the nutrition bar in her hand. It’s perfectly adequate considering her own ship hadn’t had more than some extra shelves in a common area for food stores and—

“Bantha fodder!” 

“Something wrong with anything, Miss? Perhaps the nutrition bar has gone stale and you would prefer some nutrition paste over bread?” 

“No!” Rey rushes, momentarily dropping all pretense of polite acceptance. She catches herself, remembering she’s in a bit of a predicament, and a lot can change over the years. A lot  _ has _ changed, and not just for her it seems. Polite and unassuming. “This is more than sufficient for now. Thank you, Geegee.” The droid is still looking at her with large, unblinking eyes, as if to say he doesn’t believe her, so she adds, “It’s just that I forgot that some personal effects, some essentials like a change of clothes were on board my ship, and… well…” 

“I see. I’m sure Master Solo could find you something, should you require a change in attire.” The droid makes a gesture beyond them, indicating to what she presumed would be a sleeping quarter. “Though, there comes to mind the issue of sizing, but he’s quite skilled with a needle and thread when given the need for it.” 

“Oh.” She lowers her nutrition bar, almost grateful for a reason to put off taking another bite, chewing on that bit of trivia instead.  _ Things to know about Ben: tall, thinks nutrition ration portions are actually food, poor taste in tea, handy with a needle _ . 

She goes quiet, finishing the nutrition bar in three large bites, and her ‘tea’ in two gulps. Deethree would be appalled to see her eat so, and already squawking at her to get clean and presentable in the ‘fresher… Her heart clenches thinking of her droid. The one she didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to. The one who may very well suffer some form of consequences at Rey’s disappearance. 

Add that to the weight of guilt she’s doing her best to ignore. 

“Have you not eaten anything yet?” 

She snaps her attention to the source of the question. To the towering male humanoid body clothed in simple black boots, pants, shirt and jacket… A presence that would otherwise appear intimidating, except for the fact that  _ he _ seems to be the one that’s nervous. Hesitant, really. He’s leaning against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes darting between her, the galley storage, the table, her cup, and back to her. 

“Just finished, thank you.” She feels there’s more she ought to say now, but she hadn’t planned for much talking today. Not beyond  _ How much for the ship?  _ or  _ One ticket, please. _ It’s difficult, she suddenly realizes, making conversation with someone without an agenda. Without a hidden briefing or debriefing… Without flirting as a means to an end…

_ An end _ .

She digs her fingers into her legs, forcing a smile up her cheeks. “Apologies,” she tries, motioning to the empty space on the bench on the other side of the round table. “I should have waited for you to join me. And I don’t know where your droid’s gone to ask for something else.” 

“No, no. Not at all. He went to see what was taking me so long and no. Don’t bother over me.” He… he doesn’t sound dismissive. Quite genuine, actually. She’s not used to responses in the negative from strangers that aren’t acting as cloaks of mocking, presuming to have the upper hand in the situation… But Ben’s not entirely a stranger, is he? Or is he? 

There’s an unfamiliarity to this silence between them. She doesn’t remember it being so awkward when they met, but maybe it had been. Maybe he had been this uncomfortable, and she’d simply forgotten all the nervous ticks through the golden haze of dreams and memory. Had his jaw been this tight when he’d sat down with her in the grass outside the cantina all those years ago? Had he carded his hands through his hair this many times as he’d struggled to meet her eyes before? Had his mouth opened and closed with unspoken comments or questions before? 

“So, this is a VCZ-120 light freighter,” he says, shifting on the bench, spreading his arms, palms up, as if offering something.

Oh, okay. Right, then. Good. Very good. They’re going to ignore her present state and why she’s so intent on finding transportation off-world. Good, good, good, good, good. This is good. “Corellian made?” she asks, going along with it. 

“Yeah. The VCX series was produced for crews of between five and ten, depending on their species. There aren’t many in the VCZ series, but she’s made for smaller crews, more like between two and four beings. Only two separate sleeping quarters instead of four. Oh, and she doesn’t come with an auxiliary vessel to double up as an extra starfighter or shuttle.”

Rey just sits there and blinks at him. She’s suddenly forgotten about the urgency of her situation; the fact that bounty hunters or pirates or Qi’ra herself could already be out  _ looking for her _ … None of those cross her mind as she’s sitting near Ben and blinking at him. She’s kriffing  _ blinking _ at him like she’s some nerko who doesn’t know the first thing about ships, and she hasn’t understood a word he’s just said, and she could just kick herself right now! 

Except that she can’t. 

She doesn’t.    


Because it’s not really what he’s said that has her speechless to the point of stupidity. It’s the  _ way _ he’s talking. The way he’s explaining it all to her. As if he already knows she has a working knowledge of ships, and will appreciate the beauty of this ship as much as he does. There’s no mistaking the fondness to his voice as he explains, and it’s…  _ nice _ . It’s actually a refreshing change to not be spoken down to by a ship’s captain, for once. 

To be seen as someone with a mind and personality that may enjoy  _ knowing _ things and  _ about _ things for the sake of just  _ knowing _ … 

“Sorry,” Ben adds, scratching the back of his neck. “You probably know all about Correllian light freighters. Or maybe you don’t but that was all probably more than you care to know.” 

“On the contrary…” She smiles, freely and genuine as she takes a good look about the common area and galley before allowing her gaze to rest on him. To take in his massive frame that’s doing its very best to fit behind the table. “I don’t know that much, haven’t  _ seen _ enough of them… Just enough to know she’s a beautiful ship, Ben.” 

“Thanks.” He releases a deep breath, holding her gaze, lips twitching as if they want to smile, too. “She is to me at least.” 

Something hot coils within her. Something hot and warm… like molten metal… And she’s no idea what it is or means, only that it’s distracting and has no place on the here and now. 

“Well, that’s the thing about flying, isn’t it?” Deflection. Deflection on trivial facts is best in unfamiliar territory. “Flying isn’t just the freedom in the sky and stars. It’s  _ everything _ . The ships, the parts, what makes them unique and useful in their own way. What makes them work and what breaks them down. Then there’s the atmospheric conditions, the native flora and fauna of every planet and how it all comes into play with taking flight.” 

He’s blinking back at her. Just sitting and blinking, and part of her thinks for the fraction of a second that she’s looking in a mirror. That this is exactly the expression he must have been privy to mere moments previous, and before she can stop, she finds herself wondering if  _ this _ —having someone listen to your chatter and understand you, parts of you that you hadn’t even known to be missing prior to this time—is every bit as precious to him as it is to her. 

If he’s feeling that same molten lava feeling, too...

Not that it matters, she reminds herself. 

“Yeah. All of that.” Ben gives a clipped chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s kinda how it is with anything really. But especially flying. I tried to explain that once to Voe, and—” He clamps his jaw shut, folding his lips inward. 

“And? It didn’t go well?” she supplies, canting her head. 

“Correct,” he says, his voice low. As if lost in memories. Memories unwanted or long since locked away. Something she has a working knowledge of, too. His throat bobs as he continues, “She was an apprentice with me. At the Temple. But we were never what you’d call friends, which wasn’t all on her. I jump to facts and loftier explanations when I’m uncomfortable or don’t know how to start a conversation. She always took it as me trying to show off, and I never bothered to explain.” 

“You did with me just now.” 

“I think I already consider us more friends than Voe and I ever were, Rey.” He rubs his hands over his legs, drawing a sharp breath. “Which is why I feel I can take such liberties in asking how much trouble are you in?” 

“Why aren’t you still with your master?” she shoots back, realizing she’s wasting time, but she’s not  _ that _ ready to divulge secrets. Not yet. 

Ben’s face twists into a grimace, a very pained looking one, at that, and Rey wants to take the question back. It’s not like when she’s said something that makes her look foolish and like someone was right in thinking less of her, no. This is different. It’s a regret that starts in her chest and spreads down to her toes. A sorrow that she’s brought pain to his person she’s cherished the memory of. The one who once helped her, saved her life… 

“Don’t answer that, Ben.” It’s her turn to keep her voice low now. Low and soft. As if inviting him to join her in an intimate moment… It’s something she can try, at least. “I’m sorry. You’ve been kind, offering to help and all in this warehouse, and…”  _ Annnnddd… what?  _ She’s floundering and failing spectacularly in trying to make honest conversation. She grasps for complimenting thoughts… Something she would have easily observed already. “And, well. You don’t actually work here, right?” 

One blink. Two. “Right.” 

“Okay. So that has to mean something that this Jantilli left you here with me.” She rubs her hands together, mind all abuzz as he’s still just blinking at her, as if trying to understand how the threads of her words all fit together. “What I’m getting at is that you don’t work here, and yet the owner rushed out the door, trusting you to be left in his establishment. Alone with a complete stranger. All night long.” 

“I’ve been frequenting here off and on over the last four years.” 

She shakes her head because it’s clear he’s not getting it. “Yes, but I’m trying to make a point that you obviously have a history with him, and it’s good enough for him to trust you to be left here when he’s gone.” 

“Sure. Right.” He’s nodding, expression still contorted and this isn’t going very well at all. 

She loosens a deep breath, bringing her arms to the back to the table, leaning forward. “Sorry. I’m doing a horrible job at explaining and playing nice here, and I’m sorry. You’ve been more than helpful and kind already, so I’ll just get to it. Is it safe to presume you looked a bit into my situation after leaving Lothal?” 

“Yes.” 

“All right.” She nods and braves onward. “So. The short version of the time between Lothal and right now is that I’ve run away. Just today or several hours ago, actually. This is me in the process of running away from Crimson Dawn, and I really need to get somewhere else before I’m tracked here and you wind up dead along with me.” 

He’s blinking again. Blinking and threading his fingers together and leaning his forearms against his legs. “You’ve run away.” 

“Yes.” 

“Spur of the moment or planned?”

“Both.” Her answer is automatic, but the question itself catches her off guard. Like he’s familiar with all running away entails. She tries to swallow, finding her mouth has suddenly gone dry. “I’ve been working on bits and pieces of it for the last four years now, but the opportunity didn’t present itself until recently. With a… specific assignment. I kind of panicked after I completed—after it was done,” she amends, catching herself and trying to swallow the inexplicable lump in her throat. “I’d planned on trackers being on  _ my _ ship, but after…” Kriff, the lump is back and there are blasted tears in her eyes now, and she needs to get a ruddy grip on herself! She takes a long, fortifying breath. “I took his ship instead. It was a last minute decision and thought I’d still crash it fine while landing safely in the escape pod. In case his ship was being tracked, too.” 

One nod, no blinks. “What went wrong?”

Her shoulder lifts of its own accord in half a shrug. “I guess it’s not really wrong, per se.” Her fingers drum over the table, and not in a purposeful, flirty, distracting kind of way. And Ben will probably know that. Know just how scared she truly is. How scared she’s not ready to admit to herself that she is. “Just I’d hoped to land on the moon, closer to one of the mining establishment with immediate available transportation on a cargo freighter. Not crashing in a jungle in the middle of nowhere.” 

“All right.” He goes quiet, eyes focused on the table, and she counts fifteen breaths before he speaks again. “Right then. Here me out for a moment. I think you’ve bought yourself some time with the crash and escape pod. “

“But I’ve already wasted several—”

“It’s still time,” he injects. “Geegee is keeping watch outside for now, and I can go to him with some details of what to be on the lookout for while you make use of the ‘fresher and change into something more… clean.” His brow puckers as if he’s trying to decide if that’s the word he was going for. If  _ any _ of this was what he meant to say… He frowns, but she has the feeling it’s not aimed at her, then adds. “I’m not trying to make a comment on how you look now, but it  _ appears _ that you could use something comfortable and a bit more practical for running away. Less woman on a mission and more blending in, if you will.” 

She snorts. Then giggles. She can’t help it. Maybe it’s more the stress of the past several hours than anything, but it feels as if a piece of the load she’s carried on her shoulders since leaving for her mission has been lifted, and fizzled into the air.

“Sounds like a plan, then.” She makes an effort for grace and poise as she rises from the cushioned bench. “Point me in the right direction, if you please.” 

“Down there and the doors on the left.” He twists and points. “It’s a whole unused cot, with a small ‘fresher inside, and since I don’t travel with anyone other than Geegee, there isn’t a keycode for the quarters. And I’ll… well, I’ll wait until I hear the water going before bringing some clothes for you to change into when you’re done.” 

“Okay.” 

She walks by him, opting to not think of how she trusts him enough to leave her handbag and shoes on the bench near him. To  _ not _ think of whatever deeper meaning there may be with that. To  _ not _ think of how it looked like he was blushing when he talked of her being in the ‘fresher… with water running… and what that would imply… 

“Rey,” he calls out and she turns. Her name’s never sounded so vulnerable. So desperate… and she’s never seen such an open and innocent  _ need  _ before. But here it is. Ben’s face is an open book, one to match his words as he says, “You recognized me. You called out to me when you could have kept running. Why?” 

There’s a lot in that, and she’s not sure how to answer. Because she isn’t quite sure of what the answer is either… “Just… a feeling, I guess.” She shrugs her shoulders, hoping she’ll sound friendly enough. “I’ve never forgotten you, and just had a feeling when I saw you.” 

“Okay.” He drags a hand through his hair, smiling in return. “Well, thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

He makes for the ramp and Rey makes it to the door on the left he’d pointed out.  _ Kind. Listening. Knowledgeable. Considerate and truly unassuming.  _ She adds these and a few other things to her list of trivia about Ben as she presses against the keypad and the door hisses open


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love and thanks and... everything wonderful to Frumpologist, QuinTalon, and madi_solo! I just love you ladies to pieces!!!!  
> Thank you so much for everything with this story!   
> And thank you to anyone who reads my nonsense, and goes the extra mile to leave a review. It means the world to me 💖💖

* * *

It’s a good shower—Rey will give the ship credit for that. Maybe it's a luxury he affords himself, too, unlike other necessities (proper food and tea, for instance)( _ Tea! _ ). But really, though. It’s already equipped with shampoo and soap; nothing expensive, just standard sort of brands the ship was already stocked with. Maybe he’d just never bothered removing them. The water pressure is solid—perfect, honestly. And the water temperature is easily adjustable.

So, all-in-all, this is nice. 

It’s scalding hot, but she doesn’t mind. She prefers it this way. For now at least. 

Because alone in the shower is where she starts to think. Where it dawns on her everything that’s happened over the last several hours. 

_ I’ve run away from Crimson Dawn,  _ she thinks, chest heaving, breaths labored in a way that has nothing at all to do with the steam.  _ I’m seventeen and I’ve been planning for this moment since I was thirteen. I’ve finally gotten away.  _

She knows precisely when the tears begin to flow, but she’s not entirely certain what part at all she’s crying over. Only that the weight from her shoulders to her chest is somehow both heavier and lighter and she doesn’t know if that’s something she’ll ever be free of.

* * *

“How much to tell him?” Rey mutters to herself, arms folded over her chest. A glance at her reflection in the ‘fresher mirror reveals the shoulders and sleeves have bunched as she does, and of course they do. The neck of the shirt almost slips the whole way down one of her shoulders as she scrunches up. 

She’s waiting on her dress to finish in the automated laundry facility, hoping she’d found the correct setting for the delicate material… Not that she was certain she ever wanted to wear this specific dress again.  _ I’ve killed a man in this dress _ . _ I used it as a weapon and took his life from him. I stole a life from the galaxy wearing this very dress.  _

The ‘fresher, the laundry machinery, the mirror, the shower… all of it. It starts to swirl and tunnel. To blur together in a sea of color that fades into a black void. It’s fitting she’s in black now, then. Black shirt, black pants. Even her underthings are black. The color of blood when the wound is deep and there’s little to differentiate between black and red. 

There’s no difference really. Black is the color of everything now. Her dress and her soul. Does she have one? Does she even believe in anything of that sort?

She’s dizzy with the spinning and spiraling of the room now, and she knows she does. She believes lives matter. That there’s an energy, a  _ force _ , in everything. She felt it in  _ him _ . She’s felt it in Ben… In Qi’ra… In everyone she’s ever met. Regardless if twisted, shaded, or shadowed _ — _ she’s felt it. She’s felt it leave in death before. She’s been part of the reason sentients have been taken out. 

Not like this, though. Never directly. 

The buzzer for her dress goes off, but it’s as if it’s kilometers away from her. The very act of breathing seems to be an out of body experience. She’s somewhere far, far away. Watching her life. Hearing the sounds. Feeling the rise and fall of her chest. 

What does it matter that she’s free when she bears this mark on her life now? When she has to live with the memories of what  _ his _ smile looked like. The lush dancing of his eyes when he’d been several drinks in? The rumble in his voice when he’d thought he was being flirty—when he  _ was _ being flirty. Any other female would probably have fallen for that and had a decent night with him…

But no more. 

Rey saw to it that was all snuffed out with a simple dose of poison, concealed in her bracelet…

“My bracelet!!” she yelped, snatching for her wrist as her eyes snap to it. She shoves at her sleeve, then the second, just to be sure. 

No bracelet. 

Not on either. 

Had she had it on when she’d boarded Ben’s ship? Or was it somewhere about the shipyard, as with a few discs of Calamari Flan that she’s missed? Or… kriff, the Gungan’s speeder… Even the jungle… The escape pod even…

_ Tracked _ .

Her breath quickens as she crashes to her knees. 

They can track her now. They can stumble upon this world because Qi’ra knows Rey well enough to know how she would have panicked and taken a dead man’s ship. They’ll find the extra clothes packed onboard her abandoned ship and figure out what sort of world Rey had been aiming for. Bounty hunters are notorious and relentless—they’ll find her escape pod and the bracelet somehow. Wherever it is. 

_ They’ll find me. They’ll track me down. _

Her arms wind around herself and tears sting her eyes once again… Scald their way down her cheeks as the sobs wrench themselves from her chest and she’s transformed back to being a frightened little girl again.

She’s alone and crying, hearing the voice of Qi’ra in her mind, taunting her.  _ A woman is the sum of all her deepest and darkest fears. _

And Rey is so very afraid. Maybe all this time she’s only been deceiving herself into thinking she isn't. But she’s been afraid of becoming Qi’ra for so long...of valuing power over people… of forgetting what it’s like to be told you’re owned by someone else. Of discovering that your value can be measured in credits… And then later by your talents and cleverness…

She’s cold. It’s so. very. cold. Down to the marrow of her bones. 

And maybe it’s the tears and the fact her stomach still isn’t satisfied, but the cold seems to speak to her. Seems to tell her it understands. That no one will ever understand the choices she’s had to make… That the cold and the dark is where she belongs...

Sobs wrack through Rey now, and she doesn’t understand when or how, but she’s aware of something touching her face now… The floor, she thinks… Maybe… It’s cold, too, but not like inside her. Not like this… this…  _ feeling _ . 

This prowling  _ cold _ that’s eyeing her. Seeking to consume. To make her numb… 

Like Qi’ra about the little girl on CeSai. 

Fresh tears flow at the memory of CeSai, and she’s curled around herself crying on the floor of a ‘fresher. It makes the tears burn all the more, and she needs to cry. Needs this sharp contrast of hot over cold… needs the tears, the  _ grief _ , to sear into her… To brand her from the inside out.

She doesn’t want to forget this pain. This agony over what she’s done, what she’s chosen to do… what all she’s had to do all her life to get to this point. 

_ We’re all slaves to something, Rey _ . The cold is persistent. Pressing. And prodding. It doesn’t want to let go. Doesn’t want Rey to be  _ free _ …

“I don’t want to be Qi’ra,” she forces out, as if speaking the wish into existence. She’s raspy in this water, and the choked voice doesn’t sound at all like her as she says it again. “I don’t want to be Qi’ra. I don’t want to be numb. I don’t want to always take. I want to feel. I want to give. I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want to be owned by my own fear.” 

The mantras are weak, and come out all broken, but she repeats them over and over. They give her strength to get up off the floor… And eventually to stand… And then to wash her face. She’s a hiccuping mess and doesn’t know what to do with her hair… Doesn’t hardly recognize the girl with the red, splotchy face in the mirror. 

Rey thinks she looks younger than she remembers the last time she saw her reflection. 

Or maybe this is what she’s always looked like, inside and out, and now’s the first time she’s allowing herself to truly see it.

* * *

Ben thinks he’ll give Rey a few minutes more to have her privacy before he barges in and wraps her up. Or holds her hand… Or even just sits with her if that’s all she’ll allow. Whatever she wants...

Because whatever she’s been through, whatever happened to get her to  _ this _ point, to drive her to the brink and make her sob as if her very heart has been shattered… Like she’ll never recover from this… Or be happy or whole again… Whatever it is, she doesn’t have to go through it alone…

_ But she deserves the space for it, if that’s what she wants _ . 

The words sound too wise to come from his own mind, but Ben doesn’t argue. Doesn’t question their source or validity. He can easily recall the number of times in his life he’s needed solitude. When he’s shoved person after person away to be alone with his thoughts. And tears. 

With that in mind, he steels every muscle in his legs and back, pressing his hands down  _ hard _ into his legs. He’s offered Rey the ‘fresher, and if that means she needs to cry… well then… He won’t interrupt that. 

“Has something died again, Master Solo?” GG-728 appears from seemingly nowhere, and Ben’s honestly forgotten about the existence of anything else in the galaxy beyond the knowledge that Rey’s alive and on the run and currently crying her heart out in the ‘fresher. 

Like the dramatic and sentimental nerko he is…

“No, Geegee.” He shakes his head, loosing a long, slow breath. “Rey just needed some time to herself, I think.” 

“Very well, sir. Shall I prepare more tea?” 

“Tea! Yeah!” Ben shoots up from his perch on the bench, desperate to busy himself with an occupation. “I’ll take care of the tea. You search the cabinets and see if I restocked us on some portion bread.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

They fall into an easy rhythm—more importantly, an unspeaking rhythm. Ben’s movements are all rigid and jagged, even in their precision. These are simple tea leaves, the brew he’s used to from the Temple… Not at all like the spicey brews of his mother’s that would tickle his nose as a child. He hopes it’s good enough for Rey. 

He somehow has the feeling it’s not, though. The same with the portion bread, jerkied meats, dried fruits, nutrition bars, and nutrition paste. Ben’s used to living on rations for weeks on end, months even. The Temple kitchen was always stocked with fresh items, but droids had been in charge of the cooking and serving… Even then, the food was never anything near as fancy as Ben had once enjoyed on Chandrila. And really, as long as Ben’s stomach was no longer growling in hunger, he’s learned to eat and not make a fuss over taste—it’d only gotten him teased by Voe, Tai, and Hennix anyways. 

But Jedi minimalism and ‘it’ll be enough’ mentality hardly seems the setting Rey would have grown up in… If her outfit was anything to go by—

“You don’t have to go to more trouble for me.” 

Her voice takes him by surprise and his usually steady hands jerk. Meaning he spills boiling water over them. 

Meaning he swears aloud as he shakes his hand…

Meaning he’s now blushing to the tips of his ears over many things. Over swearing. Over being so clumsy. Over the fact that Rey may think of him as just a large, clumsy, swearing oaf…

“I’ll fetch a bacta patch, Master Solo!”

“No, wait—” 

Geegee’s off before Ben can protest further, so he clamps his mouth shut and sets to focusing on something other than the pain. 

Like checking on Rey. 

_ Rey... _

Well. Her cheeks are blotched red and pink under the spatter of freckles. Her brown eyes are red-rimmed, and his shirt is much, much too big. The pants seem to be alright, though… maybe just a little too short. They stop at her ankles, leaving her feet bare over the steel floor. He couldn’t tell before under the mud and grime, but her toes are painted red…

“You okay?” Apparently his default setting with her is ascertaining her well being. Good. This is good. He can work with this. 

“Yeah.” She gives him a nod, and manages a smile that looks surprisingly genuine. A smile he can almost  _ feel _ . She adds, “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you for everything. The shower and clothes… It’s all more than I could have hoped for right now, and you don’t have to fix anything else for me.” 

She gestures to where he’s hunched in the galley and he offers a shrug in return, still feeling a stinging burn where boiled water spilled over his hand, and now a bit sheepish if he’s being honest. He’s really not used to sharing space and conversing with beautiful women on a regular basis… and it’s a funny thing to note, but he’s forgotten that females sometimes do things like paint their fingernails and toenails, and—

“Socks!” he blurts out, looking back to her feet. “Geegee!” he bellows, hoping he’s caught the droid in time. “Snag a pair of socks while you’re digging around for the medkit. Something clean from my drawer.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”   
“Right away, sir!”

“Thanks!” Ben exhales a sigh of relief as Rey’s protest is drowned out by the droid’s acquiescence and his gratitude. “Sit again, if you’d like. The socks will be clean, I promise. But sitting will at least get your feet off the cold floor, and still plenty of water ready for a smaller pot of tea.” 

He’s looking between Rey and the automated water boiler he’s still holding (why hasn’t he set it down???) and then he’s just looking at Rey. And all he can see is Rey. Like something within her has cracked and crumbled… and for this brief moment in time, she’s as vulnerable as he is, too. 

She drops back into the cushioned bench, drawing her feet up from the floor and curling them under her legs. “You know, I don’t usually particularly go for wearing another woman’s forgotten attire… Did she make a quick getaway in just a tunic?” 

“Huh? Erm… What?” Ben’s mind short circuits and he almost spills the water again. 

“Never mind.” She gives a little shake of her head as he finishes pouring the unlucky pot of water over the tea leaves and closes the lid over the pot as Rey follows up. “I was trying to be a little funny or clever with the implications of someone’s left behind clothes, but… never mind.” 

It takes Ben only a second more to grasp the implication behind what she’s said, but Geegee picks that precise moment to reappear with socks and a medkit. The droid begins making his fuss over everything, passing off the socks to “Mistress Rey” and demanding Ben “sit down now” so his hand can be tended to. One bacta patch and two poured cups of tea later and Geegee is inquiring after making portion bread.

“Only if Ben is hungry,” Rey answers, stuffing her feet in socks that all but swallow them. “I’m… I don’t think I could eat anything else at the moment, thank you.” 

“None for me either, Geegee,” Ben adds, and he swears if the droid had the ability to roll his eyes, he would be. 

“Very well, sir. I’ll just be here, cleaning up in the galley from when you asked me to search moments earlier.” 

Ben rolls his eyes then, because, well,  _ someone’s _ got to be the one to do it. “Or you could just power down for a little bit if you’d like.” 

“I think not, sir. It’d only prove counterproductive in the long run. We’re going to aid Mistress Rey in some form or fashion, and you’d probably leave out some significant detail when recounting instructions to me, and I don’t care for when that happens.” Geegee stops there, and anyone else would think the droid has come to the end of his declaration, but Ben knows it’s just a pause and braces himself for— “And besides,” GG-728 begins again, and Ben can’t help but smirk into his cup as he sips his tea. “It’s in my programming to need to know all available facts as they are, which overrides your notions of so-called privacy.” 

“All right, Geegee,” Ben says, lowering his teacup back to the table, a side glance to Rey confirming her eyes have blown wide and her mouth’s tight, even as she stares down into her own cup of tea. 

“I’m just reminding you, sir,” the droid continues, “the walls of this ship are thinner than you may think, and you’ve set my hearing to the most powerful setting in order to assist you with—”

“Geegee!” Ben doesn’t know why he’s embarrassed right now. He really doesn’t. He’s not sure what point his droid is trying to get at; can’t think of anything of late to be an embarrassing reveal… And it’s not like him to simply snipe at someone that’s an ally of Ben’s… “You can finish that cleaning in silence, yeah?” 

A pause. Then, “Very good, sir.” 

And the awkward, if not slightly tense silence resumes, and Ben  _ hates _ it. He doesn’t have to unlock his doors and reach out with the Force to read that whatever’s happening here in the galley-slash-common area, it’s all awkward and weird and tense, and what was it Rey was asking about before…? 

Oh.  _ OH _ … 

“You’re not.” He clears his throat and gestures over the pants, noting Rey’s already pulled his socks on and is now sitting with as much dignity and poise as Mon Mothma herself. “Those aren’t another female’s clothes left behind or… whatever. Never worn before actually.” 

“Oh?” The smile that starts on her face is crooked and he likes learning that Rey enjoys a little bit of fun, too. “So, these were yours… when you were ten and you… outgrew them too fast?” 

“Not that.” Ben licks his lips, and drums his fingers over the table. “It’s… I bought them for my… well—”  _ Kriff! _ This is harder than it needed to be. “I bought them with my mother in mind. In case she was ever in trouble, I could have clothes for her.” 

Rey doesn’t speak to that, per se. She lifts a brow instead, casting a look to her near exposed shoulder with the wide neck of the shirt. 

“Yes, yes. Clearly that plan didn’t entirely work, did it?” Ben grunts at the memory. “I’m not used to purchasing clothes and kept second guessing myself the whole time looking at shirts, but had already bought the pants. I ended up not getting anything and think I may have confused the shopkeeper when I huffed off like I did.” 

She laughs at that, soft and sweet. As if she can picture it in her mind’s eye. Threading her fingers together over the table, she says, “Really thoughtful of you, though. Do you anticipate her ever in need and making use of the… pants?” 

“Possibly? Maybe? Who really knows?” Ben shrugs as cabinet doors open and close in the background. “I think she’d be more likely to communicate with my dad or two of my uncles first… If one of them isn’t already with Dad. Besides that,” Ben scratches the back of his neck, “I don’t think she has a means of communicating with me, so—” 

“I beg your pardon, sir, but Her Highness does.” 

“What?” Ben snaps his head back around to face Geegee. “She… what?” 

“Yes, sir.” The droid doesn’t pause in his work, and keeps talking over the noise he’s creating. “I’m sure you’re well aware I have been programmed with capability to receive and record direct messages as needed.” 

A knot forms in Ben’s chest. A tangle of reactionary emotions he’s not sure what to do with… apart from letting them be. Letting them loop and wind. “I… no. I was not aware of this, Geegee.” 

“Oh. I apologize, sir. Perhaps I forgot that Master Skywalker always saved any received transmissions for his students to watch at their own leisure. Though…” He pauses several moments before continuing, and the knot inside Ben only becomes more twisted and gnarled. “My memory circuits are not finding any records of communications received from either of your parents. Or Chewbacca. Or Mister Calrissian.” 

Ben’s voice is gruff, if not measured as he throws back, “I had my own comm and transmitter at the Temple.” 

“Of course, sir. I only meant to make you aware of the facts as they were.” 

Ben doesn’t answer. Because he can’t. He  _ can’t _ . Twenty-seven years old and he’s still not sure what to make of the fact that his mom  _ could _ have tried sending a comm to Geegee. That she  _ could _ have thought to reach out in some way, because if there’s one thing Ben knows of his mother, it’s that she exhausts every idea and resource to accomplish what she sets out for… 

Except with Ben. Never with Ben. Even now…

_ Can you blame her? You killed her brother. You’re the reason her husband all but left. _

A chill chases down Ben’s spine and he thinks there’s a tremble to his hands as he reaches for his cup. He needs to breathe. Needs to think; needs to remember there’s no emotion, there is peace.  _ There’s no emotion, there is _ — 

“It’s nice giving your hands something to do when you’re not sure what to say or how to start.” Rey’s smile has softened as Ben blinks himself into focus, tethering his mind, his thoughts, to the present. To the facts being that Rey’s here, on Naboo and his ship, and they’re having a cup of tea together. 

“Yeah.” Ben blows at his cup, swallowing hard. “I’ll go first,” he volunteers, needing to just… tell her. To tell someone other than a droid and know if there’s relief and freedom in sharing the truth—or some portion of it, at least. “You asked me earlier why I’m not still with my master and we can start there.” 

“But then I said you didn’t have to answer that,” Rey objects after blowing and taking a delicate sip from her own cup. 

Said cup is lowered to the table and Ben can’t remember the last time he’s seen such graceful gentility with table manners.  _ Mom would like her _ , he can’t help but think… And he doesn’t even try to shake that thought away… 

“No. It actually sounded like you were commanding me not to answer, but regardless; you asked, and it deserves an answer before I share my idea with you.” 

“Idea?” 

“I knew it!” 

Ben credits himself for neither rolling his eyes nor making some snide comment on Geegee’s interjection, carrying on, instead. “Yeah, I’ve been doing a little bit of thinking while you were in the ‘fresher. But we’ll get to that.” 

“Okay.” She’s got  _ that _ look again. The one that says she knew this was all too good to be true and she’s already mentally plotting out several escape options… His heart sinks that he’s the one to put that look there. 

He vows then and there to never be the reason for her to look vulnerable like this again and rushes to explain. “This isn’t anything I’m asking you to do. Nor am I giving any sort of command because you’re now in my debt or some Bantha fodder like that.” He waits to continue. Waits until Rey meets his gaze and holds it. Holds it until he feels her release a fraction of her worry. “Honest,” he murmurs. “The food, the tea, the shower. The clothes… All of it’s free Rey. It’s a gift to you. I don’t want anything in return for it. I promise.” 

“Okay.” She gives a slight nod in return and doesn’t drop his gaze. 

“Okay.” Ben draws a sharp breath, not entirely certain how to begin now that it’s come to it. “The thing is there was an incident at the Temple one night. About four years ago and my master, Master Luke Skywalker, was killed in it.” 

One blink. Two. Three. “I see,” she whispers back. 

The words lance through his chest and he knows she knows there’s more to it. He stifles a grimace, forcing himself to maintain eye contact and not even flinch through this next bit.   
  
“I’m the one that killed him, Rey. He came out to my hut one night and I’ll never know why. Just that I woke up to the green of his lightsaber drawn and lit over me, like he couldn’t decide what to do with it or me.” Another swallow that proved useless, because everything was dry and itchy. The truth remained as painful and confusing now as it had been four years ago. “I called my own lightsaber to me and drew it in defense, but brought the roof of my hut down over us… And the wall at his back caved in, too… I was scared and didn’t want to get into a fight with him. A fight I’d likely lose, anyways. 

“I managed to walk away from the rubble, and I was looking at the Temple and I think… Well, I was so scared I blew it up.” 

“You… blew it up…?” It’s not fear, no. There’s no fear anywhere about Rey, and Ben’s not sure how that’s entirely possibly, but he’s grateful for it. Grateful that she only seems to be assessing him. Assessing and studying the facts. “With previously set detonators?” 

“No.” Ben shakes his head, opting to reach out and  _ show _ her again, as he had so many years before. It doesn’t take much effort to lift their teacups in the air with the Force, to make them spin and swirl in a controlled dance that doesn’t result in spills or messes before he brings them back down. “The Force, remember?” 

“Okay.” She licks her lips as her expression flattens from wide-eyed wonder to controlled observation again. “All right. So you’re on the run. I’m on the run. And you have an idea?” 

Ben nods, grateful to keep things simple for now. And that Geegee hasn’t butted in and added anything extra his recounting of that night. “We’re leaving for work on Pijal in the morning and I think you should come with us.” Her lips part but he’s not ready to hear protests. Or a rejection… Not yet, at least. “Here me out, because this could work. I’ll make sure you’re paid as a member of my crew regardless if you work or not. I can find ways of making sure you look busy enough and split the pay with you. Or you can have all of it if you need. But it’ll get you off this world and get you some more money for clothes and whatever else you need. I’ll take you wherever you want to go after the job’s done. Help you get a new ID chip somewhere if you need—anything you need.” 

Rey’s chewing her lip now, and Ben knows what that means. Knows she’s about to tell him off again. Knows she’s trying to find some way to tell him goodbye. 

_ Again.  _

“Please, Rey.” Something deep inside him needs her acceptance. Needs her to allow him to help her. Really and truly help her. Just this once. “I’ve wondered all these years if I should have just asked the doctors to sedate you and steal you onboard my master’s ship that day. Everything about that Rodian and then the holo of Qi’ra felt off, and once I’d looked into it… I regretted it. Not bringing you with us.” 

“You’ve nothing to regret.” Impossibly enough, that sounds one of the most sincere and honest confessions Ben’s ever heard. She’s looking him in the eye again, gaze clear and serious. “If you had, I would have likely run away somehow because I still saw Qi’ra as family, as the one who saved me from slavery. And she would’ve sent assassins or bounty hunters after you. Everyone would have died and my fate of servitude to the Crimson Dawn would have been sealed that day.”

“Okay. Okay.” Ben stares back at her, counting the number of breaths he takes. Her admission doesn’t lessen their situation, doesn’t change what she’s gone through to get to this point. 

Speaking of...“Just so I’m in the know—and, I’m not trying to be nosey. I’m  _ not _ . But if you agree to this, just so I’m aware of some facts with what we’re dealing with should Crimson Dawn track us down anywhere—”

“I killed a man.” 

Maybe Rey’s already tired of his nervous rambling. Maybe this is her way of conceding and getting him to switch off… Or maybe she understands it’s hard to stop once the rhythm of incescent word bumbling is found. Or maybe it was freeing in its own way to confess things aloud. 

“On Qi’ra’s order,” she at last continues. “I turned seventeen recently and it was time for me to prove myself capable of joining her ranks as lieutenant, which meant killing someone. His name was Dormane, and he wasn’t that much older than you I’d guess. I was given his bounty puck and had to plan everything for myself and have the plan approved by Qi’ra. I was dressed with full intent of having him think he was some guy who’d gotten lucky at the end of a long day. Some drink and a little bit of flirting and that was that. I poisoned his drink and got him outside before anything could look out of the ordinary. I dumped his body and ran.” 

Well that’s… it’s certainly a decent amount to take in. No small thing to be sure, but Ben’s heard worse. Hell, what Ben’s just told her may be comparably worse... And the way Rey’s sitting there, unblinking at him, he knows she’s just waiting for him to change his mind. To declare an alteration to the plans and demand she find herself another spaceport or her own way to the public transportation facility. 

Maybe some part of her is even daring him to. 

And Ben gets that. Get’s the desperate part inside that dares the galaxy to chastise him for his wrongs so that he can have the chance to justify himself at last… to say once and for all, “it’s not my fault!” and have someone believe him. 

Even, perhaps  _ especially _ , himself… 

Instead, he’s the first to blink as he rubs his hands over his legs, ignoring how the bacta patcha tugs against his pinching skin (it needs to come off soon anyways). “Does this mean you’re coming with me?” 

“It does.” She proffers her hand out to him and he takes it.

He shakes it and tries not to note how small and delicate it is. How very smooth and creamy-looking it is in spite of the firm grip… 

“I’m Kylo to everyone outside of this ship.” He can’t decide if he sounds strangled or relieved or nervous. Maybe it’s a strange combination of it all. “I’m sure you’re aware the name Solo is fairly well known to smugglers and pirates.” 

“It’s infamous throughout the galaxy for various reasons, sir,” Geegee cuts in. It makes Rey grin, and  _ that _ makes Ben’s ire dissipate. 

He goes along with it, even. Owning up to his father’s history by permitting his lips to curl up into a wry sort of a smile. “Yeah, so there’s that. Then there’s the First Order who remembers a General Solo of the Rebellion. And there’s also the thing with a dead Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, so the New Republic could be looking for Ben Solo as well for all I know.” 

“Quite the matched set we make, then.” Rey drops his hand, and Ben adds missing the feel of her hand in his to the list of things he’s not thinking about. 

In fact, it’s a relief when Geegee steps out from the galley, hands positioned as if on his hips. “Two fugitives on the run. What could possibly go wrong?” 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love and peace and such good thoughts to you all out there! Thank you for taking the time to read this story <3 and if you've left any comment at all, thank you so much.   
> Love and thanks as always to madi_solo, Frumpologist, and QuinTalon. This story simply would not exist without them!

* * *

Qi’ra had never put much stock in faith and feeling, and had so instructed Rey. 

Feelings are flighty and fleeting. Wealth, power, influence, goals, results—all tangible things that could be weighed and measured against a standard. Could be judged and valued accordingly. While Rey never openly disagreed with anything Qi’ra would say along those lines, because she  _ could _ see the value in such warnings, she didn’t cling to it as religiously as Qi’ra. 

Rey has always trusted her feelings. She’s always had an instinct with languages and mechanics. Even sentient beings, to an extent. For better or worse, feelings and instincts are part of her—a guiding voice of sorts. Something she’s always  _ known _ she can trust.

Even now with Ben. 

“What’s on Pijal?” she asks from her perch on an empty seat behind the pilot’s seat. Ben’s dark head and broad shoulders spill up from the back of the seat, and from this close, the waves of his silky black locks catch the lights of the lines of stars as they hurtle through hyperspace. It’s strangely hypnotic and she almost wonders what it would be like to reach out and card her fingers through such locks.

“Pijal is a planet in the Pijal system of the Inner Rim,” Geegee answers from his copilot seat, yanking Rey from such thoughts. She presses her bottom deeper into the seat, flattening her hands over her legs as Geegee continues. “It is a temperate planet with a still functioning monarchy and assembly. The local flora, fauna, and suitable atmospheric conditions make it very similar to Naboo in many regards.” 

“Not exactly what I was asking, Geegee.” Rey clicks her tongue, eyes trained on the side panels now. Different controls, and very different from her ship; but maybe she’d added and wired things as they made sense to her. This Corellian ship is part of a series, which means an engineering group signed off on it. 

The droid swivels his chair around, focusing large, unblinking eyes on Rey. “I know. But you asked a vague and nonspecific question, and I was giving you a vague and nonspecific answer.” 

It’s Ben who laughs while Rey groans, her head falling back and making uncomfortable contact with the top of her seat. She’s not ready to argue with a droid just yet, and not just for self-preservation reasons, so she takes note of what she sees. It’s the upper control panels up here. Good. Seems familiar enough, though maybe it’s a good thing the tallest member of this crew is the one piloting. She would probably have to be standing to reach for the succession of levers needed to be clicked off before making the jump to hyperspace… 

“Do you wish to ask me for more details, Mistress Rey?” Geegee isn’t overly thrilled with Rey's continued presence, nor the plan for her to join them on Pijal, and that’s fair. She can’t fault him or argue the validity of that line of reasoning. Even so, does he have to make it abundantly clear?

“Mechanic work,” Ben supplies and Rey lifts her head. “It’s mostly updates, modifications, and repairs. The majority of these ships have been out of everyday use for at least a decade now. Likely much longer than that though.” 

“How much longer?” Rey asks. There was a vast difference between early New Republic era made ships, when some companies simply coppled ships together with spare parts and pieces from the aftermath of a war, and Empire era ships. And even before that in the Clone Wars and Old Republic.

Ben sucks a sharp breath and holds it. His words are slow, measured, when he answers her question. “Think Rebellion era.” 

“Ah.” Okay then. Rebellion specific ships would mean cruisers with large common areas for assemblies in space. Data boards and holoprojection capabilities. Perhaps even some Y-Wings, B-Wings, and X-Wings. Empire ships could mean  _ anything _ , really. A smile quirks to life at the corners of Rey’s mouth; she’s never worked on ships like these before. Something like this would be fun. Possibly even something she could get used to… “Is this work you frequently take on?” Rey looks from the back of Ben’s head to over to Geegee, who’s still eyeing her with a measure of calculated caution. “It can’t pay very well if the ships are old, unless this is an antique dealer who’s hired you.” 

“He’s not.” Human and droid answer as one and while GG-728 looks as though he’d like to roll his eyes, a soft chortle blows past Ben’s lips as he shakes his head. “I’m sure he’d be flattered if you considered that an option for them, though.” 

Okay. So… Right then… “It’s a junk dealer who hires out for custom work?” 

“Of sorts.” He’s pushing his luck with these evasive answers, and Rey’s becoming less thrilled with Ben’s idea every passing second. Maybe he senses that, or maybe he hears the drumming of her fingers over her legs. Either way, he swivels his seat around, eyes finding hers immediately. “How much do you want to know? Because once you know, you  _ know _ . You’ll be in a position to put a great deal of lives in danger.” 

“Wait a minute!” She’s out of her seat now, eyes going from wide to narrow as she folds her arms over her chest, looking between pilot and co-pilot. “I’m not taking part in weapon assembly or anything that could lead to genocide, and if that’s what you’re part of, maybe you’ve changed more than I thought, Ben Solo—

“It’s not that, Rey. Not that at all.” Ben’s voice remains calm, the whole of his features remain poised and at peace actually. Either because he believes in what he’s been hired for, or because he’s about to play some cruel joke on her…

Her jaw drops, and she’s ready to snap a retort back at him, demanding more when an invisible wave brushes against her. It’s unlike anything she’s felt before, but it’s the only comparison she can make that feels correct. It’s like an invisible wave from the sea, cool to touch and soothing. It’s brushing against her cheek and arm. And before she can think to fight against it, it washes over her… Surrounds her completely. 

“It’s safe work, I promise you.” Ben’s started talking again, but she’s too focused on searching all around herself, needing to find this source… “It’s not weaponry, though weapons are part of it. I can’t tell you what we’ll specifically be working on this time, because I never know that myself. It varies depending on what’s been found and brought back to my contact.” 

She permits herself to drop the fruitless search for the wave and focus again on Ben. Ben who’s still sitting with such calm… A calm that comes from  _ knowing _ , from having all the facts. “But in general, most of your mechanic work with this contact involves…?” 

“You’re not cleared to have that sort of—”

“Actual old Rebellion equipment.” 

Ben and Geegee face each other now in a standoff. A battle of wills. 

“She’s a guest whom you declared would receive payment regardless if she works, sir. You’re under no obligation to divulge anything further.” 

“She’ll understand what’s at stake,” Ben counters. “And the people who would do harm with the information are the people she’s on the run from. Just like us.” 

“I maintain the opinion that—”

“Your opinion has been noted, Geegee.” Ben lifts his chin and looks back to Rey as he says, “But I choose to ignore it for now. If you’d prefer, you can run to the engine room and run specs to make sure all appears in working order there.”    
  
Rey stands there holding Ben’s dark-brown stare while Geegee sputters. 

“I can assure you all  _ is _ in working order, sir.” The poor droid sounds beyond appalled now, he’s offended that Ben would even suggest something’s off. “I oversaw the mech droids myself on Naboo, and to think I’m being accused of slipping from my duties—”

“Geegee!” Ben turns around, landing a hand on the droid’s shoulder, yet not as a normal master would a droid. Or one that Rey’s familiar with. No, this touch is gentle in its demand for attention. The way Ben curls his fingers over the droid’s shoulder and the way he waits until the droid’s attention is solely on him… As if the two were friends… “If my telling her would upset your protocol, I’m giving you the option to be ordered out of the cockpit.” 

“Yes, sir.” The droid nods and stands, Ben’s hand falling away. “Thank you, sir. Pardon me, Mistress Rey.” 

Rey falls back into her seat, allowing the droid the dramatic exit he seems to want, huffing and muttering to himself as he’s no longer in earshot. 

“As I said earlier,” Ben’s words startle her, and she jerks her attention back to him, finding him dragging a hand through his hair… And one of his legs bouncing slightly. As if  _ he  _ were the one a little on edge, too. As if he doesn’t care for conflict or pulling rank. “Think Rebellion era everything. Ships usually, but I honestly don’t know what it’ll be before arriving. I’ve fixed up anything from X-Wings to old base equipment.” 

“And…” Rey has to think a moment. She’s not sure she was expecting an answer this quick or easily. “Are you part of delivering them to their location afterwards?” 

“No.” Ben shakes his head, lacing his fingers together over his lap, nervous fidgeting ceasing, and otherwise appearing more in control of himself now. “I don’t ask where they’re going, nor do I volunteer to be the delivery man. The pay’s better for that, but this way I have deniable plausibility in case the First Order ever stops me and digs into the ship’s log. All they’ll ever see is a mechanic’s shop on Pijal.” 

Rey’s brows shoot into her hair. “So these  _ are _ going to the Resistance then?” 

“Correct.” Ben’s nodding slowly now, his gaze trained on her. “It’s why I already gave you an out for work before bringing you along. You don’t have to do anything. I’m not going to drag you into war efforts against your will. I’ll pay you anything over the cost of fuel to get from Naboo to Pijal even if all you do is stay in your room and watch vids all day. I’d ask you’d keep this work and location a secret once you’re safely on your way, though.” 

“Why?” It’s ridiculous of her to ask; she’s no intention of making contact with the First Order or some rogue pirates or junkers to come and raid a small scale repair operation. It’s something that can’t be helped though. It’s ingrained in her now. The arc of her brow, the way she cants her head ever so slightly, as if to say this isn’t so much question as it is a test of sorts. 

“Because.” Ben licks his lips, unflinching in the wake of her seizing control of the conversation. “Rebellion is in my blood. Finding some way of helping, of doing some form of good somewhere, of making order from chaos... It’s what I was born to do. Little jobs like this are the only way I can find to do that with the rest of what I’m running from in the galaxy.” 

“Fair enough.” She pauses, taking a few fortifying breaths, holding his dark brown gaze. “I’m sorry for… for overreacting earlier.” Weak. She made herself vulnerable by showing him weakness in that moment. 

But he’s been nothing but honest with her, even going the extra way in allowing her an out before she was even remotely entangled in any of this. He deserves a fraction of vulnerability. A sliver of honesty. 

Her eyes drop down to her hands, watching as she digs her fingers into her legs. “You have to remember who raised me and how little I would have been told about one thing, only to find out it could have been for a different mission entirely.” The bright explosion on CeSai fills her vision and she blinks once. Twice. The first is to permit herself the time to remember. To tell herself never again would she be so unaware and naive. The second time was to shove the memory back in its place, locking the compartments of her mind tight. 

She lifts her eyes back to Ben’s now, eyeing him through her lashes, unable to read the expression that’s taken over his face entirely. Pity. Sorrow. Pain. No, it’s none of these. Part of her almost believes it could be understanding, but that doesn’t feel right either. 

“Understood, Rey,” he says, so soft and so low that she thinks she could have been wrong. He proffers a hand out to her. “If you wish to continue with Geegee and I after this job, you’ll receive a full briefing of every job beforehand, and always have the option of nonparticipation. I promise.” 

He promises. He’s holding out his hand like it’s important she believes him. That she trusts him. 

Well, she already does. Already did. She has since the day they met. Silly man… She says none of these things as she takes his hand, though, allowing the smile splitting across her face to do most of the talking for her. 

* * *

Ben can’t decide if he’s relieved or put-out when Geegee makes it back to the cockpit. Rey responded well to the wave of calm he pushed out to her in the Force, but Ben’s not familiar with the sensations stirring within himself. 

He’s not used to simply offering things so freely to someone. It’s been drilled into him to have no major attachment to possession or particular way or standard of living, but he’s never been so keen to just…  _ give _ . There’s a difference. He knows there is. Not caring about something enough for it to not matter when it’s no longer part of your life is different than freely offering something up. 

And Ben finds himself  _ wanting _ to give a great many things up to Rey. Tangible and intangible. He wants her to have enough to have a supply of clothes that will ensure her safety. He wants her to have food and tea to last her as long as she requires. He wants her safe on the next leg of her journey… And with every passing moment, he wants that continued journey to be with him. 

He wants to help her, yes. To help be part of what keeps her safe and under the radar of bounty hunters and crime syndicates. He’s been on the run long enough; he knows a thing or two about a life like that… But it’s more than that. He wants to know her. He likes having someone to talk to again. Someone to listen and sound as though they understand. Someone who actually seems to  _ care _ …

But maybe he’s projecting. 

In which case, he’s decidedly relieved that Geegee returns and slips back into his co-pilot seat.

“All is in perfect condition, Master Solo. I even received a transmission from our contact at the  _ junkyard _ —” He gives a side look to Rey then shifts his face back to Ben. “And it seems it’s a great deal of ground equipment revitalization this time.” 

“All right.” Ben nods, knowing what that really means. It means not as much pay. Which means not a whole lot to offer Rey after he covers the cost of fuel… 

But maybe that’s part of giving. Maybe he can find a thing or two to sell off at one of the markets to add more to what goes to her…

“So you’re really not going to join up with the Resistance yourself?” she queries, starling him from his musings… “Not even with your father being a former general, and mother being well…  _ all _ she is.”

“Dead Master Skywalker,” Ben retorts, quirking an incredulous brow. He figures that wouldn’t be so easily forgettable. “They’d arrest me onsite and turn me over to the New Republic. The senate would rally and unite for the first time in a decade and vote unanimously for my execution without a trial.”

“That’s hardly fair, Master Solo. I am confident that you would at least be granted a hearing before the Courts and Senate to state your case.”

“Thanks, Geegee.” 

“You’re welcome, sir.” Geegee twists his head, studying Ben before looking back to the control panel. “I believe I can assess that you were using sarcasm there, Master Solo, but you are welcome, nonetheless.”

_ Kriff _ , Ben swears to himself, dragging a hand down his face. Not that he doesn’t appreciate some humor, but sometimes… He dares a glance at Rey now, curious about her thoughts. Her feelings. Her face is smooth and even, everything within her poised and unreadable as she considers him. It snatches his breath from his lungs and he doesn’t think fast enough to get a read on her feelings before her lips part.

“Are you certain he’s dead?” she asks, which surprises him more than anything else he’d braced for her saying.

“Of—of  _ course _ he’s dead.” He rakes a hand through his hair, swallowing hard. “I didn’t—I couldn’t feel him after...well, just  _ after _ .” 

She eyes him again, as if she could read his memories. Dig into the very heart of him and see things as he saw them… He draws back in his seat, physically slouching and bracing his feet. He tries to tell himself he doesn’t  _ feel _ anything resembling dark probing; that Rey doesn’t know the Force enough to even attempt for something like that, and—

“All right,” she says, softly. His lips press into a thin line, but he meets her eyes again. Noting a gentleness there that hadn’t been there before. Gentleness and understanding. “So just assembly and repairs? No chance at all of you offering your skills over to the Resistance?” 

“Not a chance. I’m keeping my head low until this is all over.” 

“If I may interject, sir,” Geegee cuts in, “you’ll be ducking an awful lot if you mean that in a literal sense.” 

The tension dissipates instantly, and Ben has to hand it to his droid that time. Rey’s smile cracks across her entire face as she snorts a laugh. Ben even chimes in with a self-depreciating chuckle of his own. Well,  _ partly _ self-depreciating. He’s accepted his stature as a fact of life now. 

Ben settles back into his seat and shares a few stories of his previous crew with Rey, Geegee chiming in several details of his own. They’re probably exaggerating a few details, it wasn’t all bad working with three Ewoks, but there was always a sharp contrast in height for Ben… And it feels good to have someone to laugh along with him for change. 

* * *

The work ends up not being that involved. Really, it’s just not. While every little bit probably helps the Resistance, it’s tedious work and Rey can’t imagine Ben’s getting paid much for this. At least, not near the ratio he’s somehow already managed to give her. 

Which is exactly what she confronts him about their second night on Pijal. 

“Keep your pity money, Ben.” Rey slaps the credits he’d given her on the table and shoves at them until they’re brushing against the edges of his empty nutrition bar wrapper. “I’m here and I’m working of my own choosing, and I want to be paid accordingly.” 

He’s still chewing on a mouthful as she continues to stand there, eyes narrowed at him. She’s got one hand on her hip and her hair is loose and, amazingly enough, not looking that bad at all, and so in her mind’s eyes she’s as intimidating as any pirate or bounty hunter with demands… 

Until the collar of Ben’s shirt slips with the shifting of the shirt, and dips most of the way down her shoulder. Leaving a batch of bare skin that Ben’s gaze tracks and rests on for a beat long enough to know she’s definitely no longer intimidating. 

“It’s not pity or charity.” His cheeks tinge with a dusting of a deep pink and he clears his throat. His eyes are full and… they make him look a decade younger as he blinks up to her face again. “It's an advance payment in case you wanted to go out and find some the downtown shopping district or attend that street market and purchase some of your own clothes. Or maybe some shoes so you don’t have to keep using my old pairs of socks.” 

A pause while Rey surveys herself. She probably doesn’t look like much more than a waif or stray Ben’s picked up somewhere in the galaxy and is helping out. Which isn’t the image she necessarily wants to project… And half of the clothes she’s currently wearing aren’t even women’s clothing… “This isn’t about socks.” Her head jerks back up, and the smile that’s ghosting across his lips says more than anything Ben would try to say. “You’ll pay me when you get paid and we’ll go to the market together then and not a moment before. Deal?” 

“Deal,” he says with a sigh that makes her think he’s reluctant to agree. He finishes that vile bar off in a final bite, looking very thoughtful as he chews and swallows, his throat bobbing as he chases the bite down with a long drink of water. “I guess it’s a good thing no one else ended up showing up for the job. More payment for us in the end.” 

“Lucky us,” Rey says, taking a seat on the cushioned bench. Cushioned may be a stretch, actually. It’s lined and there was an attempt of padding, but that’s it. While a steady and reliable ship thus far, this model was obviously not built with amenities for long-term comfort in mind. Ben offers her something to eat but she declines with a small smile and a shake of her head. “No thanks. I’ll be getting back to my quarters in a bit to do some stretches before bed.” 

“Is that angle messing with your back, too?” 

“Mhm.” Rey hums as she leans back, attempting to sink into this excuse of a bench, but it’s too damned upright and straight backed, and she’s stuck squirming and shifting until she can find the right angle. “I’ve worked on ships and droids before, but that’s either sitting on the floor or at a workbench. Or being in your back underneath something. Not like this. This is… altogether twisted up and different.” 

“Yeah… and for hours at a time, too.” 

Ben sips his water so fast she wonders if he regrets talking. That if it’s something she’s said. “Do I make you uncomfortable, Ben?” 

He sputters against his cup, coughing and trying to speak between coughs. She thinks it’s something like a choked,  _ “What?! _ ” but simply waits for him to collect himself and respond. She rights her posture, threads her fingers together over her lap, crosses her ankles under the table, and tucks them back against the bench. 

“What makes you think that?” he queries when he’s done wiping his mouth, dark eyes wide with confusion. 

“You act as though you’re either hesitant to speak or you regret your words the moment they come from your mouth. I’m not going to snap or laugh at you. I happen to enjoy your company.  _ And  _ the things you say.” She admits all of this without flinching, holding his questioning gaze, her own question reflecting back at him. 

“It’s not  _ you _ specifically,” he starts, then clamps his jaw shut. His mouth twists and folds inward into a tight line and he cards his hand through his hair, scrunching and scruffing up his thick locks—an action she finds more than mildly distracting. (It’s just  _ so pretty _ . Unfairly pretty on a male that keeps to such a minimalist lifestyle while being on the run, instead of wooing throngs of beings with his taut and broad physique and  _ beautiful _ dark hair…) “I’m not around beings much,” he continues, and it’s jarring coming back to reality from her imagination. 

“Pardon?” She’s going to need him to repeat himself for more reasons than one it seems. His answer doesn’t add up to his job… which must mean she was too lost in thought, and  _ that _ can’t happen again. No weakness. No distractions. 

“Well, yes, I’m talking to humans and non humans when on the job. That’s part of it. I can communicate in several languages, and that helps but it’s not the same as small talk. Or sitting and carrying on a conversation with a friend—not that I have much experience with that, either.” 

There’s a darkness to his words tacked on at the end that Rey doesn’t like. That twines something cold around in her chest until it’s painful. 

“Were you alone all those years while training? Just you and your master?” She was left to her own means of entertainment frequently over the years, but Rey never felt bone deep alone as with abandonment after Qi’ra. It taunted her nightmares, but morning always came to chase it away. 

“No. Others were there, too. We were cordial enough. At one time I would have thought of Tai as the closest thing I’d had to a friend, but he pulled away after—” Ben catches himself, something flashing in his eyes, a shadow crossing his face… Then vanishing so fast Rey’s not sure she saw it to begin with. “Something happened—and not something between any of us. Nothing like an argument over a girl or who won a lightsaber duel or who ate the last of the meiloorun fruit. Just… something we all learned that was hard to move past, and everyone kept a safe distance after that. Or maybe I pushed them away because I wanted the distance…” 

“I see.” Rey ponders his words, holding her stature of composed consideration. “What about your master, though? Your teacher?” She hates the word master, and especially hates that the Jedi forced their students to address them so. She refuses to use it again. “You were there for a long time; didn’t the two of you ever have any sort of friendship relationship?”

“Ahhh, yeah.” Ben flashes a rueful smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a little more complicated than just that.” 

“Uncomplicate it then.” 

“I can’t, Rey.” His words are so low and soft, so laced with sadness it squeezes at her chest. “I’ve dedicated years of my life to try and uncomplicate things in my past, in my family’s past. To learn truths of the Jedi and wars before now, but it all feels more twisted and convoluted the deeper I dig.” He pushes his hands against the table, twisting and lifting himself from the bench. “I haven’t had a real crew to talk with for a while, and it’s not a sob story to tell you I wasn’t all that used to regular friendly conversation before that. But I’ll try with you.” 

“You don’t have to try, Ben.” She’s up on her feet, too, holding herself back from taking his wrist in her hands, curling her fingers around them gently. So gently, with all the kindness she _ knows _ he deserves—she  _ knows _ he’s been declined in some way for so much of his life. Instead, she tilts her face, lifting her chin to look him right in the eye. She means this, and needs him to know it. “You can be as you are and as you want to be around me. If you’re scared of something or nervous, that’s fine. Don’t feel you have to wear a mask around me.” 

He blows out a long, slow breath, some of her flyaways getting caught up in it and dancing around the frame of her face. “Thank you, Rey.” He nods before walking around her, the door to his quarters hissing open a moment later. 

She stands there, in the common area, alone… For an undetermined amount of time. Long enough for Geegee to make an appearance from… wherever he’s been. She’s lost track of him today. She bids him goodnight, declining offers of food and tea, before excusing herself to her own quarters. 

It’s not until she’s under the spray of the hot shower that she realizes Ben never actually agreed to anything. Never really even answered her question. _It’s_ _fine_ , she decides. It doesn’t change anything that she knows to be true about him already. What she believes down in her marrow. 

That Ben Solo is a good guy. And for whatever reason, she was meant to find him. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!!!! BONUS UPDATE!!! Because I just reallllllyyyyyy wanted to share this chapter with you all <3 I love it to pieces and it makes me beam. I hope you enjoy, too! 
> 
> Thank you all for being so lovely <3

* * *

The work for Jawnson ends up being… less than what Ben had hoped for, and over in a matter of days, instead of enough to fill a week or more. It’s far too soon when he’s giving Rey over her share—a smidge over fuel costs. All right, maybe more. Maybe a couple of smidges more. 

She needs it more than he does, anyways. 

Maybe she’s come around to that fact because she doesn’t argue as she accepts. Doesn’t try to force him to take back anything extra for the sake of pity. Maybe she understands she’s not that. Not to  _ him _ . Not ever to him. 

It’s surprising when she says, beaming and proud, “I’ve found some more work for us.” 

“You… what now?” 

“I found us some more work on Pijal,” she repeats, pocketing the credits. “Your man, Jawnson, he has some regular deliveries to be made to the moon over the next week. I’ve even worked out the price with him—if you’re interested of course.” 

Flabbergasted. That’s what Ben is right now. That’s the only word that comes to mind in his otherwise empty head. 

Rey misunderstands, brows furrowing together as she rushes out: “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t consider you may have already had another job lined up after this and they could be waiting for you already. I wasn’t ready to leave yet, and I knew whatever you gave me wouldn’t be enough for my clothes and all the supplies I want to stock the galley with, and then some more shirts for  _ you _ .” 

“ _ Me _ ? Wait, wait.” He’s squawking, and he hates it when he does that. He’s also somehow managed to clasp his hands around her wrists—an action he doesn’t realize he’s done until warm, smooth skin under his fingers confirms it. “Sorry!” He drops his hold like he’s been burned. Or like he would have burned  _ her _ . Maybe he did, because her expression is as shocked as he feels. “Sorry. The hands—your hands. So many gestures, and…” Words fail him though, and he trails off uselessly. He’s not sure what he’s trying to get at now. 

“That’s all right.” She  _ sounds _ reassuring, but it’s not something he truly believes or feels until she’s suddenly holding  _ his _ wrists in  _ her _ hands. “We’re friends, Ben. You’ve… I’ve… I think it’s safe to say we’ve both had unique upbringings, but if my hands are in the way, you can move them. You can hold them to still them if you need to.” 

This is a gift. He sees her reassurance for what it is immediately. A gift of trust—so many levels and layers of trust and understanding. One he can’t fathom why she’s giving it to him. Just like that. After only several days. 

“ _ Why?”  _ It’s a choked question, one that strips him bare. One he’s repeating over and over as he stares down at her fingers still wrapped around his wrist. Lightly. Her touch is so light, it’s barely there. But Ben feels it. Ben knows it’s there. Ben knows enough what it’s like to not be touched by someone—to be shocked by it. To be shaken to his core by it. It punches a hole in a mask he hadn’t known he’d still been wearing until this point. “If this is some pity goodbye thing, Rey—”

“It’s not.” Her fingers close over his wrists as she says it again, resolved. Reaffirming. “It’s not, Ben. I was thinking it would be a means of a fresh start for the two of us, clear and new communication lines between partners.” 

“Partners?” 

“Partners.” She nods, a half-smile tugging at a corner of her mouth. She drops her hold now, and he wilts immediately. It’s mortifying to discover a whimper clawing at his throat, begging to be released. He swallows it back as she explains. “If you do have a job already lined up with Geegee, that’s fine. I’ll stay and figure this out until it’s done, and maybe you can come back to Pijal for me when you’re done. Or perhaps I can cancel without too much hassle—shouldn’t be too bad to give him back the shoes anyways. They’re not that great, but anyways, I had this… this  _ idea _ .” 

Her eyes dance now, and it’s the first time he’s seen flecks of green and gold in them. Or maybe the first time he’s studied them long enough to notice… No, that isn’t right. He’s looked Rey long and hard in the eye more times than he can count over the last several days together. Maybe it’s the effect of her touch, of their touches… 

_ Kriff _ , he’s going to need to stop thinking of the word ‘touch’ before he has a situation that requires excusing himself from the common area and adjusting his pants and thinking of many cold things… Or simply using all of his strength in the Force to make a hole in the ship appear that he can fall through… 

“Are you interested in hearing it?” 

“What—oh, yes!  _ Yes _ .” He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. “Yes, idea. Details. That would all be good to know.” He hates himself. He hates, loathes, and despises himself and might just create that hole still. 

“All right, good!” A breeze catches several strands of her hair, fluttering them about her face. He has no idea how there’s a breeze on the ship—maybe it’s from a vent, and maybe he should check on that.

But maybe not now.

Not while she looks as bright as any sun as she’s talking to him right now. “We can make the deliveries as a trial run for a partnership. Only if you’d like. And maybe it’s partly because I don’t know what to do or where to go after this, but that’s not only it, I swear. I think we work well together with mechanical things, and you’ve trusted me with some of your secrets, and you know some of mine, and I just thought the idea of being alone on the run didn’t sound nearly as fun as being together on the run. But maybe you prefer being alone.” 

“I don’t.” He doesn’t know why he rushes to say that because it’s a lie. He was ready to be alone after three years with a crew. The fact they were splitting up anyways had little to do with it… Or maybe… Maybe more to do with it than he realizes… Now that he considers it… “I don’t prefer being alone,” he tells her, but really, he’s telling himself. “I had the chance to wipe Geegee’s memory and sell him with my ship on Batuu and I didn’t. I could have left my first crew after that first job and didn’t. They were all breaking up to go in different directions when I decided to buy my own ship and take off.” 

“Okay. Okay, then.” She’s nodding now, as if needing to convince herself this plan has worked. For the present, at least. “Our first run is tonight, and he’ll have four more for us tomorrow.” 

She’s motioning and pointing and smiling. It all combines and melds together to create this lovely image. The loveliest one he’s ever seen, because it’s sincere. She means to be this happy, this  _ elated _ over something. Something involving  _ him _ . 

He tries not to think about that as he goes in search of Geegee. 

* * *

“Tell me about the shoes.” 

“Tell me about your previous crew.” 

Ben tries to scoff and begins to mutter indistinctly under his breath, pointing back down at her new shoes. “Not until—”

“I believe I can be of assistance regarding the crew, Mistress Rey,” Geegee cheerily offers as he re-enters the cockpit. “If by assistance all you are requiring is a few perfunctory details.” 

“Switch off, Geegee—”

“Yes, please, Geegee!” Rey makes a face at Ben before offering the brightest of smiles to his droid. “I’m not asking much… I just have some gaps that need to be filled in.” 

The droid faces her completely now, his silver plating reflecting the light of the stars as they cruise to the moon of Pijal. “What would you like to know, ma’am? Mind you,” he adds, lifting a hand as in a warning reminder. “I am quite serious in not being able to divulge too many details. Privacy settings and loyalty to my master and all.” 

Rey stumbles over the word master again. It keeps coming up, striking her anew, even when thinking of droids. She’s unaware that she still hasn’t asked anything until Ben interjects.    
  
“I’ll tell her about them, you manky bucket of bolts.”

“I beg your pardon, Master Solo, but surely you cannot be referring to  _ me _ .” GG-728 brings his arm over his chestplate, as if offended. “As your navigational system and co-pilot, I’m a great deal more than mere wiring.”

“Kriff, never mind.” Rey lifts her hands in a surrender of her own. She doesn’t need the story  _ this  _ bad.

“It was half made up of Ewoks.” 

“They made fun of my feet and ears!” 

Everything's quiet in the cockpit as two humans blink back and forth between each other and the droid. Said droid simply twists his head between the two said humans. Rey falls back into her seat behind Ben’s, uncertain as to  _ what  _ to make inquiries after first. 

“The Ewoks made fun of your feet and ears?” she asks, biting back a laugh, deciding to go for both at the same time. 

“Correct.” Geegee gives a stiff but affirming nod of his head. “I believe the exact first meeting went along the lines of three Ewoks climbing all over Master Solo, commenting over the size of his chest, shoulders, and ears. The Twi’lek male made a crass joke and proceeded to be the only one laughing at said joke. The other two females took over from there and hired Ben on the spot, insisting they could use someone with more height for the next job. One job turned into hundreds of others over the next three years.” 

“Oh my… Ben?” 

She’s  _ really _ having to fight back her laughter now. It’s hard, it’s  _ so _ hard. Because the mental image is something so hilarious, so completely ridiculous she can just see it unfolding… Especially on such a place as the edge of the galaxy. 

Ben’s shrunk in his seat, muttering, and fiddling levers without really moving anything on the control panel. The autopilot is set on a direct course and they’ve no need to get off. 

“Only on Batuu,” she says, laying a hand over the back of his seat, permitting the backs of her fingers to briefly brush against his leather jacket as she does. “Sounds like it made for an interesting few years. Never a dull moment at least.” 

“You’ve no idea,” he snorts, tilting his head back to her. “It was a relief to not be the one asked to lift things for everyone all the time when we set off on our own.” 

_ Lies _ . She knows that’s a lie. He’s already admitted to striking out before they were all going their separate ways. It's that she was hoping to come to the bottom of, but maybe that’s exactly what Ben’s wanting to keep to himself. 

Geegee flicks a series of switches as they come into the moon’s orbit, adjusting their speed. “Indeed, and now you’re doing all the lifting for the both of us, Master Solo.” 

“You help enough, Geegee. And don’t try to deny it.” 

It’s a fond exchange she’s just witnessed, and it warms something deep in Rey’s chest. Qi’ra was only ever cordial to Deethree at best, but droids were wiped and sold without a second thought all the time. Their memories were liabilities… and it’s not the first time guilt coils in Rey’s gut. She doesn’t want to imagine the fate of the droid that had been with her for much of her life, and yet, she can imagine the worst. 

She wishes things could have been different. Wishes she could have found a way to bring her along. Maybe she didn’t think of it long and hard enough. Maybe that makes her more like Qi’ra than she wants to believe she is…

“Everyone saw changes in the galaxy with the First Order,” Ben says to Rey, swiveling his chair around to face her, tethering her back to the here and now. It mellows the bitterness of guilt, if only for a distracting moment more. “The Ewoks had saved up enough credits for whatever they’d wanted to purchase for their tribe back home. The Twi’lek had met a female on one of our runs, and wanted to marry her back on Ryloth. Our captain wanted to join the Resistance, and Tuana…” Ben screws his face, as if sifting through his own memories before shrugging. “I actually don’t know what she was thinking of doing.” 

“She was concerned for her grandson,” Geegee supplies. “Apparently his latest comms made her concerned he’d grown bored with their planet’s navy and was considering volunteering for the First Order.” 

“Oh.” Ben licks his lips, face still contorted in awkward twists, though guilt clearly etched in the lines now. It’s a little while before he murmurs, “I didn’t even know she had a grandson.” The shame in his voice echoes the shame she’d just been wrestling with. 

“You do now, though,” she finds herself offering, needing to find a way to soothe. To ease his discomfort since she’s powerless to do anything about hers. “And maybe you’ll be able to do something to send aid one day.” 

“Maybe.” He blinks a couple of times, still looking lost in a fog of memories. 

“Maybe!” She chirps brighter and louder than necessary. And in a moment of stupid bravery, or silly need, she floats a foot up from the floor, resting it on his need. “The shoes,” she starts, wiggling it over his leg. “Jawnson started to look worried and almost refused me on the spot when I asked for an advanced payment for all the runs. But then he laughed so loud I almost jumped out of my own skin when I told him a simple pair of female ankle boots would suffice.” 

Ben breaks out into laughter at that. Even Geegee chimes an approximate of something similar. 

“I can see that,” Ben says, taking hold of the heel of her ankle boot and dropping it to the floor. Something has started beeping and he turns his chair around, facing their destination. “He’s far from rich, but his shop does well enough. Enough to hire out crews from time to time.” He pauses, canting his head, then adds, “Though, that may have more to do with his connections.” 

“Oh?” Rey sinks back into her seat, buckling up as they ready to land.

“Yeah. Jawnson’s wife’s sister is my former captain. The one who left to join the Resistance. We would do some jobs for them off and on, and I guess she felt the need was great enough it was time to do more about it for herself.” 

Rey chews on her tongue, taking that tidbit of information in. “Did any of them know about you? About the Force or…?” 

“Nothing.” His dark hair flows as a wave over his shoulders as he shakes his head. “I’m Kylo everyone else, remember?” 

“Right.” Rey’s brows pucker, and that gives her more to think on, more than she understands why. “Right.” 

* * *

Rey squeals entering the market two days later. Absolutely  _ squeals _ .

It pierces his ears, but he finds himself tolerating it with little more than a grimace. Actually, now that he’s studying her, seeing the unbridled joy splitting across her face and the glow from her eyes—it’s not such a bad sound at all. It compliments and suits her expression very well, he admits. 

She doesn’t give Ben a second look as she darts off for the first stall, which gives him quite a shock, and he jogs to keep up with her. His surprise doubles, maybe even triples as he comes up to find she’s already deep in conversation with what appears to be a shoe vendor. The way they’re oo-ing and ahh-ing over three separate pairs, the high pitches they’re sharing over shoes… It’s not a large leap for Ben to make to presume Rey likes shoes. And not just for practical purposes. 

She briefly introduces him as her Kylo (for the record: “And this is my—Kylo. This is my Kylo.”) and everything else seems to fade after that. He  _ sees _ Rey pick up and trace her delicate fingers over pretty and dainty heels. He hears the bubbly small talk she makes with the owner as she tries on several pairs, but none of it’s real. Nothing beyond being called hers. Her Ben. 

Which is impractical—Ben  _ knows _ this. Ben repeats it to himself five times for every time he can hear Rey introduce him as “my Kylo” in his memory. He realizes they’re new at this. Logistically, this partnership isn’t anything official; they’ve completed the deliveries for Jawnson and been thus paid, and agreed to shop, and talk further after dinner. They’ve agreed they work well together and there are considerations they should discuss in detail… 

All that dissipates as Ben melts where he stands. Like butter over fresh-baked bread. Or icing over a hot bun from that diner Dad took him to a few times… 

“Do you need boots, Kylo?” 

The simple question has two very confusing effects on him. At first it’s a bucket of cold water, ceasing all meltings because now he has to ask the question to be repeated, compute what’s being asked of him, decide if he needs more boots (he doesn’t, he has **two** pairs in working order, thank you very much), and regurgitate that answer back to them. But secondly, confusingly, he finds it warms him even more to have someone ask him if he needs something. If he’s well cared and provided for.

He’s also equal parts affronted and stunned when she laughs him off, and asks what the vendor has available in men’s sizes. 

It seems Ben’s getting boots today. Unexpected.

...Not  _ un _ pleasant, though. 

Not in the least. 

“So, it seems this is a festival of sorts,” Rey says as they leave the shoe vendor in search of clothing, or wherever Rey deems necessary to stop next—Ben’s not picky, not for the moment at least. Geegee’s back on the ship, putting in coordinates for their next job, and Ben wasn’t planning on leaving until just before dawn the next day; they have time—time for Rey to tell him more about this festival. “We’ve come in a time of warmer months after seasonal chill, and all the downtown shop keepers of this city come together to set up a marketplace in the public parks. This is a shopping one, but they have food stalls and game stalls set up in neighboring parks it seems.”

She’s chewing on her lip as she looks up at him through her lashes. “Fun, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Ben bobs his head, trying to focus on the words she’s saying, keeping them from going in one ear and out the other as he’s still wading through the fact she just bought him  **two** pairs of boots back there.  _ Two _ . 

“The shop owners all agree upon a set reduction in prices ahead of time,” Rey continues, “so as not to make it about the competition. They want to keep this as a time of celebrating the season and community. Entertainers from all across the planet are hired in, and even the queen herself makes a grand appearance at the end of the week!” 

“Fascinating,” Ben chimes. 

Because it is.  _ It is _ . There’s such a wholesome atmosphere about... _ everything _ . The sun is dipping low in the sky, but the park grounds, sidewalks, and streets are still brimming with citizens. With families. Children laughing and running and eating while adults blissfully chat away. He easily counts off seven different species in this confined space, and he wonders if surrounding planets are in the know of this seasonal delight. If they’re here for a visit, or if any of them have fled their homeworlds for a place the First Order hasn’t deemed of value enough to take ownership of yet…

“Kylo.” Rey’s lowered her voice and there’s an edge to it that had been absent before. Or maybe just muted. But that sharp, hard expression has taken over her face once again, and she seems to have aged years in a matter of seconds.

It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention, and he reaches out in the Force. Looking. “Did you see anything?” he murmurs back. 

“No, it’s not that.” She purses her lips but gives one more glance around their perimeter before looking back to him. “Do you ever feel like you’re never truly going to...assimilate? Like when it’s all said and done and you’re far enough into the life you’ve chosen and you’re free and settled, you’re still going to be out of place? You’re always going to be the one assessing, filing, and storing information away. Like data you’ll need to pull up one day, or dig through to use in defense or against someone to get out of a scrape?” 

Ben has to suck a sharp breath at that question. And then blow it out. It’s heavy and loaded. And it feels the exact sort of life his dad has lived—only that’s never worked out all that well for Han Solo in the long run. Nothing ever works out for Han Solo for very long, though. 

“Maybe.” He shrugs, unable to fathom what life would look like “when it’s all said and done.” If it’s even a possibility. 

A sinister laugh sounds in his mind, a chill washing over him, in spite of the sun and their surroundings. He doesn’t have to look around as Rey had. He knows where his enemy lies. He knows he’ll always be battling against Snoke—that there’s no freedom from that. Ever. 

He shoves at the taunting laugh as Rey squeals again, finding a clothing stall. He loses track of what she actually purchases between all the shirts, pants and dresses she tries on and shows him. Then there’s all that she throws at  _ him _ . All that she insists he try on. Things in navy, green, brown, beige. He balks at the suit in purple she tosses at him, and absolutely draws the line at the thing made of silk that’s red and yellow. The way she laughs makes him think it was a joke anyways. 

A droid comes along offering to take their bags back to their home. Ben’s too flustered to answer, because they’ve just been mistaken for a  _ couple  _ and that simply does  _ not _ compute, but Rey’s right there to accept the offer and give instructions to their ship at the public hangar. 

She directs them to food stalls next and they purchase a variety of local indulgences. Plenty of fried food, which Ben has a feeling he’s going to regret later on. Rey makes a variety of other purchases which she casually plays off as “supplies for the ship,” but Ben’s suspicious of the funds coming for this. Surely she’s run out of the money from Jawnson now, which would mean she’s dipping into her own funds for him, even if this is their last evening together—

He blurts out the first that pops into his mind as means of protest: “You know I actually do like the nutrition bars. And paste. It comes with a satisfying bread mixture that I think you’d enjoy if you gave it a chance.” 

She blinks at him, incredulous. And then proceeds to chomp down on her stick of sugar coated fried dough, tapping her mouth with a napkin as she chews. 

“Nobody could possibly  _ like _ that rubbish,” she scoffs, taking another generous bite from the sweet treat she’s calling ‘dinner’. “It’s survival food. And you’ve been living in survival mode for far too long.” 

“They satisfy hunger, and meet all essential nutritional needs.” Why is he even having to explain this? It’s so much easier than cooking several dishes to obtain the same amount of nutritional value. “It also saves time and energy that would be spent cooking and cleaning. And what if I burn or ruin something and then waste an entire meal because it was inedible.” 

“Oh, B— _ Kylo _ ,” she amends, shaking her head. “You’re missing the point—GEEGEE!” 

Ben whips around as Rey cries out his droid’s name; his fingers twitching and ready to be put to use with the blaster hanging on his hip. He doesn’t see his droid and turns around to ask Rey what she’s means—

But he’s not able to do that. 

Rey’s already tearing off in the direction of the public hangar, food bags and her last bite of the fried dough-stick dropped where she stood, forgotten as Ben sprints after her. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the cliffhanger this last week! But I hope you enjoy this chapter 💙💙💙love always to Frumpologist, QuinTalon and madi_solo for their love and support and Alpha and Beta help with this story!!!

* * *

Rey doesn’t understand it, and couldn’t explain it if asked. It’s deeper than the strongest feeling she’s felt before. The closest she can say is she knows because it’s like she’s  _ there _ . She’s  _ in  _ the public hangar. She’s watching Geegee and the ship with sinister eyes; with some form of wicked intent. 

Rey won’t stand for that. 

She drops everything and  _ runs _ . She bolts from her spot on the grass, shoving through the crowds, occasionally throwing back an “I’m sorry!” or an “Excuse me!”, but she’s not too worried over appearances at the moment. 

It’s easier running once her feet finally hit the smooth sidewalk and the gathering thins. Well, easier may be relative. Her side burns and she’s deeply regretting the last three fried things she’s eaten. She draws a deeper breath in, holds it and tries making the breath last as she exhales—

“Is Geegee all right?” Ben appears at her side, pace matching hers, which is almost laughable to see for herself. With those stupidly long legs, he can easily be outrunning her, and maybe that’s what he’s trying to do, if she can ever breathe through this food stitch in her side to speak. 

“Don’t know.” She huffs and rounds the corner, Ben falling back a couple of paces as she does. “Trouble with him. With the ship.” Her hands attempt at useless gestures, though she doesn't know why. They’re not helping anything. 

“Okay. I’m going to get there first and check it out or stop them.” Curse him for being so ruddy  _ tall _ and for not eating as much as she just did! He makes talking and sprinting look like  _ nothing _ . As effortless as their stroll moments before. “You come in through the side entrance. Try to signal or tell me if you feel anything else, okay?” 

“Sure.” She’s digging down now, finding it in herself to push through and  _ move _ . Faster. Further. Ben takes off faster with an ease that’s almost infuriating. Rey’s been built to be a warrior. This should be  _ nothing _ ; and yet, between the significant decrease in her caloric intake—because she’s not eating more than one of those vile bars of nutritional dried Bantha fodder a day—and then this sudden inhalation of  _ food _ —mostly fried, too—running is not easy. 

_ Easy won’t save Geegee _ , she tells herself. _ It won’t help Ben. It won’t stop whatever this is from happening. _

She grits down on her jaw and  _ runs _ , pushing through this kriffing food cramp and weaves around parked speeders and passersby dressed for an evening and night out and likely on their way to the festival. The hangar is finally in sight, and she sees Ben make it through the main entrance. 

_ Side entrance… Side entrance… _

The  _ Steadfast _ is off to the west of the hangar, and that’s the direction Rey takes coming up to the building. She’s gasping and panting at first, catching the attention of droids who either give her funny looks or ask her if she’s all right. 

“Fine.” She dismisses their inquiries with a huff and a wave before pressing the entry button on a keypad and slipping through the door. She climbs over a few short stacks of containers, and steps lightly around several taller stacks, commanding her lungs to cooperate. Slower breaths, lighter breaths. Better for sneaking up—

But several sounds collide at her all at once, and she loses her train of thought in the scuffle. There’s a crash, some smacking, and then a few yelps. She’s hurrying to get out of whatever mistake maze of a storage area she’s come through to get to Ben. To get to their ship. 

Her heart thuds against her breastbone as she finally hears Ben’s voice yelling: “Hey!” 

Someone, or something, yelps back—more like squeals, actually. It reminds her of a puffer pig. Another crash follows, and a very loud and hard  _ SLAP! _

She slams through the door into the main hangar in time to see Ben holding a hand to his cheek, his stance tense as in preparation for an attack… Or ready to pounce himself. 

The Gran facing him kicks him squarely in the chest and Rey sees red as Ben falters after the blow. 

A toolbox is sitting open on a crate and she snatches up several tools, years of training and muscle memory taking over now. 

Inhale. Speak. “I wouldn’t have done that if I were you.” And good, nice and smooth. Exhale. 

The Gran grunts in surprise, turning just in time for Rey to launch the first and smallest tool in her hands at him. She aims a hair too high and only clips him in the shoulder, though. He swears in Huttese now and starts to charge at  _ her _ . 

She’s ready this time and releases the next tool, aiming for the head this time—

It finds its mark right between all three eyes. The Gran yowls, bringing both of its six-fingered hands to its face. She’s ready to charge now, raising her arm high. The last tool is a long cylinder and she’s already marked in her mind the three places to strike hard and fast once she’s within range. Fast and painful, yet not enough to strike him unconscious… They’ll need information, and—

Her heart falters in her chest as in the time it takes her to blink, a large black tree tackles the Gran from behind and they both fall to the ground. 

_ No _ . 

Not a tree. 

Rey lowers her arm, fingers curled tight around the tool still, eyes narrowing at Ben. “I was going to finish him off.” 

Ben snorts as the Gran attempts to flail his arms in an attempt to brush Ben away. 

_ The fool _ , Rey sniffs. She comes up to where they’re shuffling and struggling on the ground. Chin held high, so she can look down on this thief in every sense of the word, she comes up on its side, noting Ben’s sitting upright now, jamming his knees into both sides of the Gran, his powerful muscles tense and rippling under his pants. 

It’s distracting enough to make her pause for the span of two whole heartbeats. The catching of her breath shoves her back to the present moment, and she’s angry with herself. She’s a master in her training and things like taut muscles and impressive strength should not— _ will not _ —get the better of her. 

“I told you you would regret that,” she purrs down at the Gran, channelling all her anger and irritation into her foot as she brings the heel of her boot down on one of the Gran’s hands. 

“Gahhhhhhhhh!” The Gran roars, pained and scared now.

Good. Very good. 

“I didn’t take anything,” it protests. The voice is deep enough she can presume it’s a male. Even better. She digs her heel in deeper, relishing in his anguished yowl. He frantically yells, “I swear I didn’t!”

“But you were trying to,” Ben adds, and Rey nods. 

She releases her hold of the Gran’s large hand, making her steps around to his three eyes deliberate and calculated. He’s afraid of her boots, of what she can do to his eyes from this position. She could blind him right now, with Ben pinning him to the floor. 

“What were you after?” she asks, silken smooth. Commanding, yet calming. It’s a commonality amongst all sentients that they’re more likely to talk when they feel safe. The Gran pinches his mouth shut, jerking his head from side to side. Ben’s thighs squeeze harder and in a move that’s so fast and graceful it must be practiced, he jabs the Gran in the side with his elbow. 

“Ughhhh!” The Gran grunts again, and Rey’s running low on patience. 

“Answer,  _ thief _ ,” she spits. “What. Were. You. Trying. To. Take?” 

The Gran only shakes his head again, releasing a cocktail of pleasure and dismay in Rey. It courses through her veins, clearing her vision, yet blurring everything else all at once. She doesn’t want to be the one inflicting pain. She needs her freedom. She can’t be caught, can’t go back. She doesn’t want to hurt, doesn’t want to be the source of suffering. 

Her eye twitches as she glares down at the Gran. Through the mask of indifference, she’s pleading with him to answer her this time. “Once more, thief.” She floats her arm up, steeling her muscles, preparing for a blow she doesn’t want to make. “What were you—”

“Pijal Royal Security!” 

Rey’s arm drops and her face jerks up into a bright, shining light. A team of uniformed humans and droids approach, blasters drawn. 

Someone from the unit speaks to her, “Lower your weapon, ma’am.” 

“Yes, sir.” She does, a flood of relief rushing over her as it clangs against the floor. 

“This Gran was attempting to rob us,” Ben says, lifting himself with an ease that shouldn’t be possible for one so tall as three uniformed men come up and take hold of the protesting Gran. 

“I didn’t take anything! Didn’t even get the chance to board the ship!” 

Rey fixes her narrow gaze on him. Studying. Assessing. How much is he protesting? Does it look to be for show, or is this real? She can’t be sure, and the security moves him and carts him off too fast for her to feel she has a good read on the Gran… On anything with this. It  _ could _ be true. He could have found and followed the droid with their purchases back to the ship, watching and waiting to make ensure no one was immediately following… 

Or it  _ could _ be…

“We’ll check security cam footage,” she hears one of the guards saying. “We’ll take this guy into holding in the meantime, if the two of you don’t mind waiting before taking off.” 

She vaguely catches Ben answering, but that’s a hundred kilometers away from her…  _ Take off. We should leave. We need to leave. We need to take off now. He could have been hired by a bounty hunter. Could be a member of a crew. Not safe! We’re not safe! Need to get out of _ —

  
“How did you know?” 

“What?” 

She doesn’t know her own voice as she answers. Doesn’t even know  _ who _ she’s answering for the first splinter of a second. 

And then she processes that it’s Ben. The security team have taken the Gran away, and droids have entered the large hangar, making a great deal of noise and fuss over an attempt of thievery in their domain. 

But Rey brings her attention back to Ben. On the way his head is tilted and his entire body is canted in her direction. On how his voice is low, dropping to something deep and rich. Something that’s near sounds awestruck. Amazed. Wonder-filled. “You said Geegee’s name and ran off. How did you know? He hadn’t gotten to Geegee at all. Hadn’t even made it on board the ship when I got here.” 

Her head's spinning now, the rush of adrenaline wearing off, and she’s remembering her regret with her food choices. She wraps her arm around her side. “I felt it. The  _ Steadfast _ , Geegee—I felt something dark and nefarious lurking, and I ran.” That should suffice. It has to, actually. 

They don’t have time for this. They need to see that security footage, too. They need to check the ship. They need—

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Everything grinds to a halt because Ben’s still standing there. Standing right in front of her looking at her like that. Like  _ that _ . Like she’s discovered a new star system… or  _ something _ . 

“Rey.” He takes a step towards her, dark brown eyes full and boring into hers. “That’s the Force.”

* * *

She’s arguing with him. Been arguing with him for a quarter of an hour now, protesting things like she just  _ knows _ things. She knows herself and trusts her instincts. It’s no outside Force commanding her movements and actions. And besides that, she’s not about to give herself to some ancient religion that will enforce a dress code and reduce her diet to inedible food substitutes. 

This last bit she adds as they board the ship and plop down in the common area, only after they’ve talked with Geegee to make sure he’s well and wasn’t apprehended or anything of the sort.

Ben grins that in between it all, Rey’s protesting.

He has things he’s prepared to chime in with, remarks and questions sitting at the forefront of his mind, waiting for the opportune moment—

“Why are you sitting down?” Rey’s incredulous enough to make Ben’s head jerk to her. Mouth all agape, brow’s lifted high, she begins moving her hands before speaking rapidly. “Ben, I don’t care about the semantics of the Force or whatnot at the moment;  _ we don’t have time. _ ” 

Fear. He senses it. He wonders if he were to reach out, would it be waiting as a predator, ready to choke out all the previous fun from the evening. Ben doesn’t want to find out. “Elaborate, please?” He’s stiff on the bench, ready to raise himself up on her command. 

“That Gran may not have been after anything at all. It could have been part of a larger crew or a singular hire by a bounty hunter. We could already be found.” 

Okay. Force conversation can go on hold in light of a possibility he hadn’t considered. “Do you think so?” He scrambles to his feet. 

“I don’t know for sure,” she shrugs, suddenly looking almost sheepish. “I could be a little paranoid right now, but it’s not outside the realm of possibility.” 

“Don’t do that. Don’t doubt yourself now.” His heart clangs against his chest. Found. He doesn’t want to be found. Doesn’t want anyone to know the whereabouts of Ben Solo. A chilling chuckle sounds off in the corner of his mind, and Ben has to physically shake his head to push it back. “This is your arena, what would you recommend we do?” 

“Search for trackers or traces,” she answers, already pointing. “You and Geegee start with the inside. Check through all my boxes of new clothes and shoes, too. Have him run scans and full diagnostics on the ship and her systems. Double check for any viruses that may have been remotely uploaded to the system. I’ll check all around the outside. We’ll plan as we know more.” 

“All right,” he nods. “Let’s go.”

* * *

They don’t find anything. Not a scrap of evidence to point to tampering, tracking, or invisible tracing through the holonet. 

There are, however, a few things Ben would prefer he  _ hadn’t _ found in her room. Some things in a smaller and more ornately decorated box… But he’s not thinking of that. Not right now. 

_ Not ever _ , he amends to himself.  _ Never, never, never.  _

“I can’t believe I dropped the food and ran.” Rey’s glowering down at her plate. She’s been picking at her serving of dried fruits and a loaf of polystarch portion bread for twelve whole minutes now.  _ Twelve _ . He knows because Geegee has been calling out time increments for updates with the backup system scan, and they’ve added up to twelve minutes. 

Ben, on the other hand, polished off his nutrition bar and handful of dried fruit in four minutes. Maybe less. Maybe closer to three…

He decides to chance it and ask, “Did you really plan on cooking up and using most of it?” 

“Of course!” Her head snaps up from its fixed snarl at her plate. “I’ve been trained by chefs. Renowned chefs at that. Just because I’ve had to live like a vagabond and smuggler at times doesn’t mean I have to accept a lower standard of eating.” 

“It’s simpler. It’s more cost-effective.” 

“It’s called self-care, Ben.” She shakes her head, breaking off another section of bread and chewing it with all the dignity necessary to prove her point. “And anyways, you’re not really a smuggler. And you’re neither a pirate, gang member, nor a vagabond. Why eat as any of the aforementioned when you don’t have to?” 

“Did I ever advertise I was any of the aforementioned?” He feels they’ve had this discussion before. At the market. And besides, it’s making him feel self-conscious… Like that time he’d apologized to his mother for the size of his feet when he kept outgrowing boots. 

Rey shrugs, sipping at her water before taking another bite of bread. A small bite, one that’s a mark of etiquette training. “I guess not,” she answers after brushing over her mouth with a disposable napkin as if it were a fine cotton-linen blend at a state dinner. She smiles at him across the small table now, canting her head. “It just takes some getting used to, that’s all. I keep expecting you to act one way or say certain things, then you don’t. I have to keep reminding myself that you’re different.” 

“Different?” Ben’s mouth falls into a frown. He’s not sure how he feels about that.

“That’s not a bad thing.” She nudges his foot with hers under the table, but pulling back before he can be completely sure that just happened. “It’s  _ good _ . Very good, but still. It means that I add value to your crew by thinking to be looking for trackers. Or that someone may be more than a petty thief.” 

_ His crew _ . He likes the sound of that. He likes it very much, actually. And Rey wanting to stay. With him and Geegee. Yes, he likes the thought of that very much. 

None of which he’s willing to share with Rey, though. Not to the extent he feels it. Not the deeper level of why he feels it. She’d laugh in his face and change her mind—her parting words to him would be to get used to loss and loneliness…

He clears his throat as a means of clearing his mind. “Were you scared growing up in that environment?” He surprises himself with that question. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it, only that he hasn’t entirely decided how he should ask. When he should ask. It seemed the sort of question to be asked at a certain time… But, apparently, he’s decided to eject tact from his ship of decorum.

“Yes and no.” Rey studies him as she finishes off her bread, sipping at her water. 

“Oh.” He bobs his head, wishing he hadn’t asked. Wishing he hadn’t been the reason for the second time in a single sitting for the uncomfortable silence between them. “I apolo—”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, so don’t even try to. I don’t think it’s as simple as maybe it ought to be, though.” She slides her plate across the table, indicating for him to finish off her dried fruit. He does, willingly. Happily. She folds her hands together in her lap and begins, “My parents sold me to Puse, a lowly somebody with Crimson Dawn when I was five. I’ve no idea who they were or what they were. All I knew at the time was my name, that I was five, and that I lived on Jakku.

“I didn’t understand what was happening when Puse took me away, so I was very scared then. My room scared me because it smelled different. Space was new and cold, and I was a slave. I learned very quickly what that meant.” 

Rage roils within him. Blinding, bubbling, and boiling. As on the day Tai had been wait for him and Master Skywalker on the landing pad—

“I won’t ever forget that day that Qi’ra came down looking for Puse, but ended up asking me if I’d like to come with her instead.” Rey keeps speaking, which means she either can’t see the battle he’s fighting internally, or she doesn’t mind. She talks still. “Whether by her own selfish purposes or not, Qi’ra took care of me. I was never cold or hungry again. She saw to it I was educated and trained with self-defense. I eventually learned more advanced styles of hand-to-hand combat, but I’m still fairly accurate with a blaster. I would earn parts to build my own ship with jobs. We sometimes did girl things together, like the spa and shopping. There had even been the occasional races…”

She trails off, giving him a funny look. Almost as if piecing together parts of a mechanism in her mind. Or figuring out a puzzle. 

“So, not all bad then,” he rushes, not certain he’s ready for her to figure out all his secrets, if that’s what she’s doing. “You weren’t being chained and forced into anything?” 

“Not… in the traditional sense of the word, no.” She has to pause again, and he can see the effort it takes to consider her response. “I worried within myself about everything being taken from me, so I worked to be the best I could. I mean, of course there were times I was a little brat.” She flashes a rueful smile then, chuckling at herself. “The entitled moments were mostly for show. Deep down I feared the day Qi’ra would tell me I’d failed her and she’d send me down to be a slave again. Or dump me back on Jakku.” 

“What changed? What made you decide it didn’t matter if you were wanted or not?” 

“I still did,” she counters. “I needed to be a contender for Qi’ra’s lieutenant, to truly be seen as someone wanting to fill Qi’ra’s shoes someday. That’s the only way I would have all the resources available to have a chance of getting away.”

Ah. She’s lived behind a mask, too. She understands the pressure of hiding behind it at all times. “You made yourself indispensable for your own reasons.” 

“Yes.” Her head bobs, but it seems heavier now. A trace of sadness there. “Nothing would work without transportation and time. And more leeway with time is granted to higher up in rank you are. I needed time enough to literally be anywhere in the galaxy before anyone started to wonder about me.” 

That fits. Makes sense even. But something else still puzzles him. “Why would they want you back so badly, though? It’s not like the First Order is actively seeking out crime syndicates. If anything, they’re coming to mutual understandings for profit on most planets. And you’re not the type to fly directly to Hosnian Prime and turn yourself over as a witness for names and contacts.” 

“Irrelevant. All of that, Ben.” Her shoulders square as her posture stiffens. “It’s Crimson Dawn. They’ve a reputation, and you don’t just run away and get away with it. The day you believe you have is the day they find you. The lucky ones are killed instantly.” 

“What if you’re unlucky?” He clamps his fingers down on his legs. Hard. He shouldn’t have asked; he knows the answer. Knows it before Rey says anything, and doesn’t want to hear her thinking such things.  _ Even so _ . 

Her gaze hardens. “The unlucky ones are reminded that they were never more than a mere pawn to begin with.” 

She’s unflinching, so full of pain that comes from seeing more than anyone should. 

So much older before her time that he blurts out, “That’s why you need to learn to use the Force!” 

It catches her off-guard, and for a moment she appears too stunned to laugh at him. Which is good. He’s thankful for that, and even more grateful when she doesn’t laugh at all. In fact, she sounds genuinely curious when she responds. “I don’t see how  _ that _ can do any good. And actually, I’m not even sure I believe you when you say you can do things with it.” 

“You do. You know you do.” She arcs a brow at him and he brings his hands to the table, leaning his forearms against the edge. “It goes beyond lifting things; it's more than making things float and dance in the air, but you already know that. Your senses are already honed and trained to listen. You already know to look and  _ feel _ . Think of learning and training with the Force as going deeper. Growing roots and learning to trust yourself more. Learning how to defend yourself in a whole new way.” 

“Why though? Why would I need this specific way? The Jedi are all gone, even if they ever really were what legends claim in the first place.”

He hesitates before answering. He can see the validity in her questions. But he’d like to hear more of her thoughts on the matter. “Explain. Please.” 

She huffs, but does as he asks. “There was nothing and then there was Luke Skywalker. Before that was the Clone Wars, but there’s no way of knowing what recording has been fabricated or embellished there to make the Jedi out to be more than they were. But how great could they have been—residing in a temple on Coruscant anyways? That’s the easiest way to grow out of touch with the rest of the galaxy, to keep yourself from seeing and knowing the true needs out there.” 

“I don’t have answers for all of that, Rey.” His voice is quiet now and he licks his lips. “It’s something my master I fought over a great deal before… well, before the  _ incident _ .” He falters, wondering how much to say, how much to admit just yet. He considers all she’s shared with him, and decides she deserves some measure of the truth as well. “I’d been going off and doing a lot of my own research, trying to find answers to the questions I was asking. My master, though, he seemed more focused on training us to be a symbol of the past. Ready for whatever political game was being played at the moment.” 

His lips flatten together, folding inward as he sifts through memories, conversation from the past. “Or maybe that’s all I saw him wanting us to do,” Ben admits, more to himself than Rey. “Maybe I never asked why and never gave him the chance to explain what we were training for.” He looses a long, slow breath, a burden lifting as he murmurs, “Maybe that’s all he knew to do.” 

“Perhaps. But you think there’s more to what you were learning and finding—right?” 

“I do. I can’t explain it.” He hesitates, realizing what it means to voice these things to himself here and now. “I don’t know if I necessarily had the right way of going about it, either, but the truth  _ is  _ out there. About the Jedi and the Sith; their rise and downfall.” 

“You sound so confident of this.” She doesn’t scoff, and she’s not mocking. 

It gives him the courage to hold her eye. “Because I am. Even if the truth is the sum of all the stories and points of view combined, that’s fine. I want to know it. It’s more cumbersome, but I still want to know it. I was sent to train to become something, I think I deserve the full story of what that means across the galaxy if only for that.” 

“But that’s not what teaching me is about, is it?” 

“No.” 

She doesn’t say anything more. Just sits there, holding his gaze, unblinking. So still, in fact, he wasn’t sure she was breathing. It makes him feel more laid bare, more  _ seen _ than he’s felt in a long time. It reminds him of a voice residing in his mind, knowing things about him before he knew them himself. 

He drops her gaze and jams his palms against the table, pressing against it.  _ Hard _ . 

_ This is why she has to train _ , he tells himself, chasing away the hurts and haunts of his past.  _ She needs to  _ **_know_ ** _. She needs to be able to defend herself.  _

“ _ Whom are you talking about, young Solo?”  _

Ben’s on his feet, whirling around, fingers twitching and flying to his utility belt—no. His holster. It’s a blaster there now. Not a lightsaber. And he doesn’t see anything. There’s no one else here. Just as there never had been when Snoke had spoken before… 

“What is, Ben?” Rey’s on her feet, too, poised and ready to be asked to do something. “Did you hear something? Or... sense something?” She makes a gesture with her hand over him and he grimaces.

“It’s nothing,” he rushes, a little too fast and too brusquely, but he’s embarrassed. And a little afraid. A breach like that is not to be tolerated. Closing himself off to the Force has only made him sloppy. Made him weak, and all but begging for an attack. 

“I’m not saying train to be a Jedi, because that’s not even what I am. I’m saying you  _ should _ train though.” He closes the gap between them, standing right up to her, so that she was almost craning her neck to keep holding his gaze. It would almost be ridiculous if it weren’t too important. With an invisible hand thrown up to create a shield in his mind, he reaches out with another. Reaches out to Rey, to the Force inside her, brushing against it once—

—She gasps, eyes blowing wide. 

And he knows she felt that. Knows it was something new and unexpected. 

“You know it’s there, inside you. You can feel it awakening. I can help you know what to do with it.” He’s begging. As he hears himself, he knows this is an all out plea. Yes, he’s scared, but that’s for him to deal with. He’d never forgive himself for keeping something so great, so key to who she is and all she could do and become from her. He’s not sure he’d expect her to, either. 

Not when others still existed across the galaxy to discover and take hold of it. To use her power for their own design. 

“You wanted to be free, Rey. This is part of it.” He dips his head, the tips of his hair brushing against her brow. It’s a secret, after all. Only for them to know. “Let me help you. Let me teach you how this can make you stronger.” 

“All right.” Her breath is a warm puff against his chin and neck, and he’s suddenly acutely aware of just  _ how _ close they are. How close together  _ he  _ brought them. 

Just as he’s about to point out to himself that she hasn’t backed away, that’s exactly what she does. She moves, but not by much. They’re small steps, backwards at that. So that she’s still looking at him.

Until she finally side steps and turns around, making for their sleeping quarters. Where all the bags and boxes and clothes and shoes are still strewn about her quarters from when he searched… 

Including a box of lacy things he hadn’t been aware she’d even had time to purchase… 

He sucks a sharp breath, shaking himself and calling out to her. She turns and it’ss then he discovers he needs to clear his throat before he can speak. “Command station. We’re leaving for a command station before first light tomorrow morning.” He swallows because his mouth has gone impossibly dry as she’s standing there looking over her shoulder at him, and he’s taking in every centimeter of her face, her hair… “We’ll pick up supplies and make our next run from there.” 

“Very good, Captain.” She smiles, raising a brow at him. “You’ll wake me if Geegee can’t handle the pressure of co-piloting, yeah?” 

“Of course.” 

“Not possible!” Geegee shouts from the cockpit, and Ben could almost kick himself. He’d forgotten about Geegee, and wonders how much of the conversation the droid had heard? All of it, more than likely. 

And it was all probably something he’d feel entitled to ask Ben about at some point in the future. Probably as soon as Ben ventures to the cockpit to hear the outcome of the scans. 

Oh well...


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting early.. just because... feeling like sharing this chapter! 
> 
> All love to Frumpologist, madi_solo, and QuinTalon! You’re all amazing annnndddd 💙💙💙 Thank you so much, ladies! Your continued support is everything to me! 
> 
> ALSO!!!!!! You all!!!! Everyone who continues to read and leave such kind comments with this story... I am so grateful to you all!

* * *

Rey’s not sure what she should have expected after a day like yesterday, but nightmares all night long isn’t it. They chase her all night. In the forms of bodies and blindingly colored blades. 

Nameless and faceless. All of them, until a Zabrak male...The horns poking out from his head stand out against his red and black face. He always appears from the shadows, his smile is teethy and cruel. Qi’ra always appears with him, though, and Rey is frozen in place each time they materialize. Sometimes Qi’ra is standing by his side and accepts the order to kill Rey eagerly. Other times he seems to be holding her by the neck with invisible hands, ordering Qi’ra to shoot Rey, “Or else.”

Rey awakens the one time Qi’ra refuses, and the invisible hands twist and snap Qi’ra neck. 

She jerks upright in bed, screaming for her guardian. Screaming because of her guardian. She doesn’t know anymore. Her throat is raw and her cheeks are wet. And—

“Rey!”

Her chest heaves and she’s gasping. For air, for breath… 

There’s a pounding. Against something hard. Her name is being yelled again. And again. 

“Rey! Are you all right?” 

“Ben?” Her voice cracked and croaked. She’s scared. Light from her ‘fresher streaks across the floor of her room… Because she’s never trusted anywhere enough to sleep completely in the dark. 

She’s right to not trust the dark. 

“Are you hurt? What’s happening, Rey? Talk to me.”

She clenches her hands, blinking down to find the sheets are all tangled in her fingers anyways. She releases her hold, flexing her hands before reaching for the light switch. The light’s blinding and she swears a string of words that would make any space pirate smirk with approval. 

“Please, Rey.” A thud comes from her door as she fumbles to lower the light setting. “I’m here to help. Just… Let me know you’re all right.” 

“I’m fine.”  _ Liar _ . It’s tempting to give into the truth. Tempting to throw off her sheets and march to the door panel and allow him in with a single press. It would be so easy to ask him to occupy the empty space in her bed for peace of mind. For the simple assurance that someone’s with her. And that maybe he’ll appear in her dreams next. Maybe he would help her fight… 

She doesn’t give in though. 

She won’t. 

She didn’t ask for any of  _ this _ . The Force on top of everything else?! 

She didn’t ask for it and so she won’t. 

She  _ won’t _ . 

She doesn’t know what she’s fighting against anymore, but she’s resolved. She  _ won’t _ . 

“I’m not hurt, Ben.” Her voice is still now. Even and under control. “Bad dream is all. I’m sorry that I woke you.” 

He doesn’t answer. It’s a loud silence in the wake of Ben’s not answering. She even thinks she hears the hiss of his door after the silence stretches out… She lays back down, breaths shallow and hot as disappointment curls in her chest. It’s confusing because she’s not used to receiving comfort in the night. Deethree would either be at work on something or powered down… 

This is nothing new. Ben’s not anything more to her than an old friend-slash-current associate.  _ That doesn’t sound right _ . Her nose scrunches and it’s a silly thing to focus on, but she craves the distraction. She guesses they’re partners, but maybe that’s not reason enough to ask to come in and check and see for himself. 

_ He’s your Kylo _ , her traitorous mind reminds her. Heat floods her cheeks as she recalls earlier that evening at the market. That’s worlds and lightyears away now, and it’d been the least complicated explanation… 

And an acknowledgement of sorts after she’d woken screaming, and apparently woken him with said screaming, would have been nice. Maybe that’s not what they are, though. 

The silence is broken again by the hiss of a door and Rey jerks upright. “Ben?!” 

“I’m right here. Just needed to get some things from my bed.”

“From your—what do you think—?” 

“You can go back to sleep, Rey. I’m right here. You’re safe. I’ll be outside your door when you wake up. Nothing’s coming for you tonight, I promise.” 

She’s too exhausted to parcel out and analyze what he’s just said. She’s probably hearing things. Or slipped back off to sleep again. Her head sinks back into her pillow and she decides that’s likely what’s happened as she fixates on her breathing and sleep finds her again.

* * *

A hiss sounds from behind him, startling Ben awake and he jumps to his feet. 

“ _ Wasshappening _ ?  _ Youokay _ ?” 

“Ben?!” 

He doesn’t know why Rey sounds so surprised. He told her she was safe. That he’d be right outside when she woke up. 

“Did you sleep out here?” 

He rubs his eye while attempting to smooth the messy mop that is his bedhead and mumbles, “I told you I was right there.” He gives up on the feeble attempts of grooming and squeezes his eyes shut. Kriff, the light throughout the ship is bright. How did he manage to fall asleep in the first place? When his eyes open, they find Rey. Study her up and down to assess for any sign of injury. 

_ Sure, kid. Whatever you say.  _

He shakes his head, giving the Han Solo in his mind the proverbial finger as he meets Rey’s confused stare. Or incredulous. He’s not sure why it’s either, though, and decides he should probably ask her about it. “How are you this morning?” 

“I can’t train,” she says and he doesn’t understand. This isn’t computing as an answer to his inquiry. “I don’t want to learn about the Force. I didn’t sign up for this, I didn’t ask for this, and I don’t want this.”

“You… you don’t want to…?” 

“No. I don’t know.” 

He senses the modicum of hesitation under her words, and the lingering fear.  _ That won’t do _ . His brain is stagnant, and okay, his back  _ really _ hurts. It’s been a long time since he hasn’t slept at least on a cot, which is infinitely more comfortable than his bed in his hut ever was… But Rey’s safe. No harm came to her overnight.  _ Worth it _ , he thinks as he stretches his arms over his head. 

“Let me make sure I understand.” He lifts his left arm up and reaches right. “You’ve been given a gift that can make you more focused and alert than your enemies.” He does the same with the opposite arm, feeling the hem of his shirt riding up his torso. “You’ll be more self-aware and certain of your place in the galaxy, and have answers to how these instincts and feelings work inside you, and you  _ don’t  _ want to know how to control it?” 

He drops his arm and gives his head a shake, running his fingers through his hair in a second attempt to make something of it before showering. She’s stock still as he looks back to her, eyes wide and cheeks tinged pink. “Are you all right?” 

“I...uh…” She stammers and looks to the ceiling, then the floor, then back to him. “Fine, yeah.” 

“Positive?” His brow puckers with worry. She hadn’t appeared flushed or flustered just before he stretched. “You’re fine?” 

“ _ Yes _ ,” she hisses, as if eager to lay the matter to rest for good. 

Which he’s more than willing to do, after he’s thoroughly confident in the status of her health. He presses the inquirity once more: “If you say so. If you need, we can take off within a quarter of an hour and make it to the Command Station in time for a full meal. You can get checked out by a doctor to be sure.” 

“Command Sta—well, that’s another thing!” She stomps her socked foot on the floor, and this is uncharted territory for Ben. It may be the most adorable thing Ben has ever had the pleasure of seeing. “I never  _ officially _ agreed to the Command station or whatever it is we’re doing now. I never… I didn’t… Ugh,  _ Ben! _ ” 

Cancel that ‘may’. There’s no doubt about it. He can still sense the uncertainty and fear as the base layer of all her emotions, but that’s not where he’s focusing. No. Because her nose is all scrunched up and her face is now etched with lines of frustration and her arms flail about. She leans into the side of her metal doorframe, groaning and sliding to the floor, and it’s official that Rey is the most adorable thing Ben has ever known. 

Not that this is the time or place to come to such conclusions. 

He licks his lips as he stretches out his legs. “You’re absolutely right about that.” He scoots closer and nudges her knee with his. “We didn’t come to any official conclusions about anything last night. You were worried we’d been tracked, and I got us off-tack with personal questions before talking about the Force. We never officially agreed over the details of you continuing with Geegee and I.” 

“It  _ was _ more implied. The discussion was more a formality than anything.” She’s hesitant, the waver present in her tone, but he’s able to see her words for what they truly are. 

It’s the final drop of fuel he needs to make his official suggestions known. Blowing out a quick breath, he starts, low and soft, “I think it’s a good idea for you to come with Geegee and I to the Command Station—getting offworld is priority right now. You can still purchase your own transportation from the Command Station if you’d prefer.” 

He pauses and their eyes lock. He hopes she doesn’t pick that. He  _ really _ hopes she doesn’t pick that option. He’s not ready. And not ready for  _ what _ , he doesn’t fully know. Can’t assign a designation to any one emotion swirling and swelling inside him. Not yet, at least. He clears his throat and adds the alternative option. “Or if you just need some time to think and be alone, you can stay there while I make this run with Geegee. Then I’ll—uh,  _ we’ll _ —come back and get you when we’re done. We’ll take you wherever you want next.” 

Their eyes are still locked and they’re such arresting colors up close. She seems to be chewing on the inside of her lip as she’s considering; he wishes she’d put him out of his misery by noticing the unspoken third option. “You left out the third and final option, Ben.” It’s barely above a whisper, but there’s a crooked smile working up her face. 

“You can stay with us.”  _ Stay with me, Rey _ . He doesn’t add that. Doesn’t say aloud how much he wants her to stay. He doesn’t follow the rush of instinct and desire that screams to take Rey’s hand in his and brush his thumb over her knuckles. He simply remains on the cold floor with her, contenting himself to remain where she is, and leave the facts and solutions as they are with her to decide. 

It’s scary, this notion of having someone already close enough to make a choice that would potentially bring him pain. Kylo never showed much outward signs of attachment to his old crew, outside of always assisting if anyone was in need. And before that, through the lense of the present, studying his past, in some ways, it seems pain was all he ever truly consistently knew—which may not be entirely true, or fair. It’s how it still looks and feels, though. 

Maybe that should warn him regarding Rey. Maybe that should be his sign from the Force that this cannot come to any sort of cheerful conclusion. He catches the rest of her face giving into a smile, though, and everything inside him beams. Hope blooms in his chest, and maybe it’ll be different this time. 

“Where do we go from the Command Station again?” 

“You’re staying?” He doesn’t want to mess this up with presumption. Doesn’t want this moment that feels oh so monumental to pass over too fast; to come and go as a gentle rain that’s over before the soil has had any chance of absorption. 

“Yes, Ben.” She nods and nudges  _ his _ knee with hers. “I’m staying. So what are our orders Captain Solo? Or Kylo. Captain Kylo.” 

“Perhaps you could restrict yourself to Ben while on board and alone, and Kylo when anywhere else, and leave such formalities of titles to me.” 

Rey gasps and whirls, and Ben’s not sure why he’s so startled by GG-728’s sudden appearance from the cockpit. It’s not as if his droid is ever far enough away or quiet enough to  _ be _ forgotten.

“Yeah, that’ll work.” Rey twists and slides herself around on the floor so that she’s now facing both Ben and Geegee. Such a small thing and it fills Ben with an unexpected warmth. “Simple is the safest route to keep everything straight.” 

“I believe so,” Geegee agrees, then twists his head to address Ben. “Am I authorized to give her the necessary details of this assignment? We’re running short on time before our previously discussed time of departure, and you seem far too easily distracted this morning. Perhaps you shouldn’t sleep on the floor outside of your quarters anymore. It doesn’t seem to fulfill any sentient requirements of refreshment and rejuvenation.” 

Ben’s face pitches forward into his palms as he emits a sound that’s somewhere between a growl and a groan from the back of his throat. This is his life, this is really happening. “Just get on with it, Geegee,” he manages to mutter. 

“Yes, sir. As I’m sure you’re well aware, Mistress Rey, Ryloth never joined the New Republic. That being the case, their planet is not privy to New Republic assistance and aid should the need arise.” 

“It’s been done before,” Rey protests and Ben feels it’s safe to look up now. “It was some years back now, but a couple of senators answered Ryloth’s plea for assistance and went to see what the Senate could do.” 

That was definitely one way of putting it. Ben suppresses the urge to snort, wondering what his mom would think of such a simplification of such a major time in her life and career. Something that so irrevocably altered her life as much as his, not to mention, shifted the course of the galaxy to what it is now... 

Geegee doesn’t launch down that trail though. He stays the course of relevant and necessary. “Immaterial now, in light the First Order’s sweeping threat,” he counters. “The New Republic does not make small medical runs to independent planets a priority in times of crisis, which is what we have been hired to do. There’s an independent medical Command Center that resides in the Inner Rim. It hires out ships for medical relief deliveries and sends its own medical personnel to outside the sphere of the New Republic.” 

“Wow.” Rey seems genuinely amazed, and Ben understands that. He was too the first he learned of this. Humans and non humans alike rallying in an effort to help and do good outside of the sphere of politics—what a novel concept. But admiration has a way of giving into suspicion, and it’s not surprising when the next question out of Rey’s mouth is, “What’s their profit margin in all this apparent generosity?” 

“I’m not at liberty to make calculations and guesses on such things, Mistress Rey,” Geegee answers coolly. 

“They’re doctors,” Ben throws out there, as if that’s explanation enough. They blink at him, so he shrugs and flexes his feet, holding the stretch while adding to his comment. “It’s in their training to help. To do the most good and provide aid and healing whenever possible. Is it impossible to believe that hundreds or even thousands of them would want to come together and send aid to the forgotten and overlooked?”

“No one does something for nothing, Ben.” Rey pauses and blinks once. Twice. Thrice. “Not even doctors.” 

_ I do _ .  _ I have _ . Add these to the growing list of things Ben doesn’t say. He only points his toes now and leans forward, pressing his arms into his thighs to really feel the stretch. “They’ve never given me reason to doubt before.” 

He feels the weight of her stare against his back. Hears her huff as she stands. “Then I hope they never prove you wrong.”

* * *

Rey’s words stick with Ben the rest of the morning. He ponders them in the ‘fresher, in the shower, as he makes his bed, and as the auto-laundry machine is put to work. Rey’s returned all of the clothes he’s loaned her before her purchases yesterday, and it’s impossible not to think of her with her scent wafting all around him. It's unthinkable to not ruminate over all the implied implications of her agreeing to come with him. 

He unlocks a small portion of himself, permitting his instincts to stretch out. To  _ feel _ . To rest in their natural state of existence. The Force is his ally. It’s with him and inside him. It’s a flood of relief to permit a measure of it to simply reside without constantly fending against it. 

It’s enough strength in his veins for him to ask Rey about training as they make the jump into hyperspace later. Now that she knows of the existence of her powers, it’s only instinct to test them—to try to learn more of them is the natural flow of the Force. Ben was alone with his first miniature lessons of control. Then he was shoved at his uncle. Relief when she agrees to that, too, is instant. 

More than that, though. He’s elated. Whatever the future holds, however long this lasts, he’s not alone anymore. Not even in the Force. He has an ally there, too. A partner to practice with, maybe even spar with—

“ _ Such spirit. Such spunk. I can see what you like in this girl, Young Solo. _ ” 

Ben stills in his seat. Cold floods his veins as Snoke’s haunting voice floats into his mind, and his hands freeze over the control panel. 

A dark chuckle that only he can hear fills his mind, chills piercing into his back. “ _ Just as I sensed, you’ve become weak. You are unwise. Untested. Unbalanced.” _

He vaguely notes that Rey says something, but he can’t make out what it is. Everything becomes distant as he throws himself into fighting the Voice. He struggles against that strong, wicked laugh. He fights to remember how to close Snoke out, while remaining open to the Force. It takes more effort than he remembers from before. Maybe Snoke’s right—that he has become weak. That he’s wasting his time with all his attempts at doing some good throughout the galaxy. Good by his own standard and in his own way of keeping out of trouble. 

“ _ Not enough, my boy. You could have become stronger in all this time. But now you’re  _ **_weak_ ** **.** _ You’re weak to the point of failure,”  _ Snoke laughs, haunting and taunting. “ _ I see the connection. I see your memories. All this time you’ve kept her from me, only to fail  _ **_now_ ** _. When you’re reunited _ — _ ”  _

The streak of stars collide in Ben’s vision. He can’t breathe. Can’t  _ move _ . Can’t force his muscles to obey his wishes to leave. To yell and fight against the invisible enemy… Because Snoke’s right—he’s weak. A failure. A—

“Ben…?” 

His name spoken from Rey’s lips startles him. It's a miracle in and of itself because he’s able to focus on something. The miracle continues when he feels something rest over his arm. Touch. He’s being touched and suddenly the scents of soap and something floral whirl around him. Binding and tethering him to safety and light. 

He thinks he hears her say something else, but he can’t make out what. 

It doesn’t matter, though. This is enough. 

He throws everything into shoving Snoke from his mind, and throwing up mental shields in the Force. It’s all he can do to stay upright in his seat with the effort of it all. Rey had helped him. Had she sensed his need? His distress? She’d spoken to him and... she’d… touched him...? His arm tingles even in the absence of any weight against it now, so he thinks there’s the possibility for that.

And she’d been close enough to be overwhelmed with the scent of her… What had she been thinking? What was she doing so close?

“Rey?” It’s a croaked plea, a need for answers. 

“She’s left the cockpit, sir,” Geegee answers to Ben’s great disappointment. “But perhaps you missed that, too.” 

_ Fan-kriffing-tastic.  _ He feels like an idiot and groans to himself, making a face as he asks what it looks like just happened. 

The droid twists his head without turning his body. “We made the jump to hyperspace while you and Mistress Rey were having a discussion. By my understanding, there seemed to be some verbal sparring involved, but neither of you acted unpleasant with the other. Similarly, as you went quiet, Mistress Rey also went quite still and quiet. You appeared to be having a mental spasm or stroke of sorts, and that’s when Mistress Rey inquired about your status. You didn’t answer and she said your name. You seemed to respond to that and she leaned forward and squeezed your arm. She then stated she believes you to be a “good guy” before dismissing herself from the cockpit.” 

It all seems so clinical with a regurgitation like that, and not nearly as meaningful as it had really been. Rey had sensed his distress, his struggle, and need. She’d sensed it and done what no one else had ever done before. 

She helped him. 

She came to his aid, without knowing anything of the Force at all. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love always to QuinTalon and madi_solo, but especially Frumpologist. Your constant help and encouragement means more than I can say.   
> All remaining errors are my own💙
> 
> Thank you, all of you who read, judo, comment, and bookmark. Thank you all. 💙💙💙

* * *

“What was that?” Rey sets the tray of tea down on the table—though she’s loath to call it that. It’s something though. Something to be busy with, and some means of passing the time. She’s made tea and called for him to join her. And now she wants answers. “What happened to you back there? It’s like you were present in form, but your mind had gone away. Or as if you were locked up somehow.” 

He regards her cautiously, sitting slowly on the bench. “You felt that?” 

She’d otherwise be irritated at having an answer in the form of a question, but she knows he’s assessing. Gathering as much information before explaining. She can only guess that she knows this because of ‘the Force’. 

“How could I not?” She sinks down too, a shiver skirting down her spine as she remembers. “It was suddenly cold, so very cold in the cockpit. And you felt… darker somehow. Like in a fight to keep your life as your own. To keep someone else or something else from taking over.” She shakes her head as she considers how that sounds. “Am I crazy? Did anyone else in your Temple ever feel things… things like that?”

“They did.” It’s a clipped answer, and he hasn’t lifted his dark eyes from their fixed point on the table. “Never quite like that, though.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do either.” He brings his hands to the table, threading his fingers together, twiddling his thumbs around each other. “You felt something that was specifically happening in me, a darkness I’ve been battling all my life.” He meets her waiting stare now, eyes searching while confused. So vulnerable and full. 

Full of  _ everything _ , she has no other way to put it. All she’s known and seen before of eyes are shallow reflections of the sentient. Eyes flirt, taunt, narrow, widen, and perceive. They can be easily fooled into seeing what they want to see. But not Ben’s. Ben’s are the eyes of one who’s seen and perceived what he  _ hasn’t _ wanted to. They’re the eyes of one who knows too much to reside in ignorant bliss again. 

She makes an attempt at a smile. For him. She’s given more smiles, all of them genuine, in the small amount of time with Ben then she’s ever bestowed in her life. The majority were part of the mask she wore, a weapon of her own design. Special ones had been reserved for Qi’ra, but even those became a rare offering in recent years. In the time she’d spent trying to make herself indispensable enough to be free…

“Is this more of that stuff from before that you said was complicated?” 

“Yeah.” He rubs his hands together and sighs. It’s the sigh of one who’s old. So old and tired before his time. 

Rey prods a little more. “Do you think you can try to uncomplicate things now? Somewhat at least?” 

“I don’t know anything I say now will help or not, honestly.” 

“Please try. I’m listening, Ben. I want to know as much as you’re willing to share.” 

She means it. She’s not going anywhere and she wants—more like  _ needs _ —to listen to whatever he feels ready to say. She’s agreed to be his partner, and knows down to her marrow she means it for as long as—well… She hasn’t considered an official end point yet. Until she’s proven a danger to him and needs to leave for his well-being. Until he dissolves the partnership… Her nightmares of last night have passed and she’s still afraid. But she knows Ben is right. That  _ this _ is right. He can help her, and maybe, for once in her life, she can be a help to someone else. 

Maybe she can help  _ him _ . 

“I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve been fighting this—this  _ darkness _ —all my life.” He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. It seems to fortify him. “There have always been… feelings within me. Deep reaching dark feelings. And a Voice. Something that always left me cold and confused. I got bad headaches when I was very young, and as I got older, the responses evolved. They grew more volatile… Things would fall from shelves, something would break… To the point where when I was ten I was so angry over something at home I blew up the family hangar.” 

“What like—?” Rey sits there blinking. Ben plucks up a cup of tea, waiting on her to figure out exactly  _ what _ she’s asking. “Like what you said happened at the Temple?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh.” She taps one thumb over the other for a moment. Careful. She wasn’t to be so careful in the questions she asks. “So, what happened when you were ten and at home—was that an accident, too? Or did you mean to do that?” 

He squirms, a rueful smile crawling up his face. “I’m sure that’s open to interpretation looking back on it as an adult. At the time, I was mad. And hurt. Mad and hurt enough to want to make my parents feel what I felt. I didn’t exactly sit down and focus all my energy on exploding something. But the more I focused on my anger, the darker and colder everything in the room got. Until it just… BOOM…” He makes an exploding gesture with his hands around the teacup. 

“You were sent to train soon afterwards, weren’t you?” She’s careful to be gentle, too. This isn’t an accusation. Nor is it really a question. She ninety-seven percent sure knows the answer already—it’s a story that all but writes itself. 

“Yeah.” Ben’s head bobs as he takes up the cup again. “The Voice never left me alone. It actually grew stronger as time went on, though that’s some of my own doing at times. I invited him to introduce himself, and times when I would be upset or especially lonely, I’d generally listen to him. Or let him talk to me. Tell me things I wanted to hear.” 

Rey frowns because that doesn’t sound good. Not one bit. “What sort of things?” 

Ben purses his lips and shakes his head, the waves of his luscious locks brushing all around his face. “I’ve never told anyone about the Voice, about  _ him _ , before now. I can’t… I’m not—” 

“Fair enough.” She grasps the golden thread he’s tucked away in that stuttered tangle of a confession. Everyone has their secrets. It’s not hurting her specifically in this moment to  _ not _ know all of Ben’s. Besides, there were more important things happening right now: like watching Ben. Seeing him struggle so in his seat, seeing the war that so clearly wages inside him. “You’ve dealt with this all your life? Ever since you can remember?” 

“Yes.” 

“ _ All alone? _ ” 

He doesn’t answer immediately and that's all the answer she’ll ever need. It’s enough to set her blood on fire. To have her go from learning to seeing to  _ understanding _ how someone could feel such raw, intense  _ anger _ , the only possible outlet would be an explosion. 

“It wasn’t…all bad.” he manages to add, but the admission is so low she knows he’s lying. He’s covering for people. For the ones in his life who should have been there for him and taking care of them. He’s locking the pain away. 

He wears a mask and clothes himself in amor just as she does. 

“They’re all idiots, Ben. Idiots who never deserved you for a single day.” 

“No, no, it’s not like  _ that _ .” He’s earnest in his defense. “Bantha fodder, I’m messing all this up, because now I can think that I should have told Master Skywalker or Mom while I was young and scared. Maybe it would have been easier to help me then. And Dad might have even—”

“Don’t.” Her hands are across the table in a splinter of a second, covering his fingers and pressing tight. She doesn't know who’s more surprised—him or her, but maybe that’s not the point. The point is she’s holding his hands now, loosening her grip to make it more of a cradle. A gentle grasp over his large, lightly calloused hands. His throat bobs and his broad chest seems to tighten under his shirt. She steels herself with a sharp breath as she asks, “You’ve been surrounded by people who should have been on your side all your life, and still felt alone? Still believed you couldn’t trust anyone? Even yourself?” 

Tears well in his eyes, catching in his lashes and he starts to blink in an attempt to banish them away. “Rey… You don’t know what all I’ve—”

“I know enough for now.” Her mouth runs dry, but she can’t stop talking. Not yet. She squeezes her fingers against his, reassuring him she’s on his side. She’s his ally. His partner. “Fighting means an occasional loss. Sometimes more losses than wins. But when given the chance to run away, you didn’t run straight to a life of crime or the darkness. You chose to find good. You chose Light. And that Light brought me to you.” 

* * *

“ _ And that Light brought me to you.”  _

Rey could kick herself sometimes; she really could. 

Replaying what she said at the table when she impulsively reached out and held his hands, she’s never felt so young, foolish, and small. 

It seemed to take Ben a lifetime to finally answer—to do anything beyond look at their hands. It would have been an uncomfortably long stretch of time, had he not begun to trace his thumbs over her fingers, then knuckles. His traces were so reverent, so tender—almost exploratory. It makes her wonder now if Ben’s ever held anyone’s hand. At first glance, it would be obvious to presume a great many things of Ben Solo, and his experience with physical touch and carnal pleasures. 

But sitting there with Ben, getting lost in the sensation of his rhythmic touches, hearing him answer in a raw and husky voice, “All this time, I’ve been thinking the Force brought us together so I could help you. But you make it seem as though you think you’re meant to help me, too.”

“Maybe I am.” She’d squeezed his fingers again, then, and almost jerked her hands back in surprise as tingles shoot up her arm. Ben had returned the pressure, squeezing her fingers while still tracing his thumb over the backs of her fingers. It’d felt as though someone else were answering for her when she’d croaked out, “Maybe we’re meant to help each other.” 

“Maybe so.” Ben had given her fingers one final squeeze before rising from the table, thanking her and telling her he was going to ask Geegee a couple of questions. 

So now, here is Rey. In the galley. Cleaning up a mostly untouched tea service to give herself something to  _ do _ . To put her hands to work, if nothing else then to forget the rush of sensations she’d felt as he’d returned her touch. She’s not completely inexperienced, she can ignore whatever sensations she may be feeling from that. 

But what she doesn’t want to admit to herself, aloud or in private, is that how no one had ever simply held her hand before. In that long stretch of sitting, holding hands, and not speaking, that had amounted to more than the sum of all the tender experiences Rey has known before this. And that scares her as much as it melts something inside her. 

It scares her because she needs to focus. 

This command station for independent medical professionals could easily be a front. A cover no one would think twice about looking into. Something planets and governments wouldn’t even blink or sniff at to check if anything else were happening on the side. Neediness and poverty can breed corruption. And where there’s corruption, it’s possible Rey could be recognized. 

She tells Ben she’s showering, declining to give him an explanation when he says he thought she’s already showered this morning. She did, but that was to get clean. This shower is for preparations. They still have another hour hurtling through hyperspace and Rey needs to select her armor well. 

In the end, after much deliberation, she elects to blend with what she presumes the surroundings will be. Medical centers are usually white, and if there will be any sort of time spent at the station, Rey wants to blend. Her shirt is a longer, drappier plain white piece, while her pants are a fitted ivory pair. The boots are light colored as well, and her makeup is minimal. She fashions her braid to something loose and simple, only weaving two thin side braids on each side into one large braid that drapes over her shoulder. 

She’s pleased with the final result, giving herself a final once-over before leaving to join Ben and Geegee in the cockpit. Geegee makes a remark that at least she knows other colors exist outside of black that Rey chuckles while Ben rolls his eyes at the droid. When he tells her she looks good, she’ll deny to anyone else the flutters she feels in her chest and how very hard it is to breathe for the subsequent minutes. 

They exit hyperspace and make their way to a looming gray space station. It’s… standard in size, Rey decides. Nothing too large or fancy appearing from the outside. They’re given instructions for which docking bay to land, and the staff are friendly and professional as Ben, Rey, and Geegee make their way down the ramp. 

The staff greet Ben as Kylo, and ‘Kylo’ introduces Rey as… Rey. He seems to panic for a few heartbeats, realizing they hadn’t discussed if she would have a different name or not. Rey doesn’t recognize either of the staff, and knows it’d be worse to act anything other than delighted and professional in this moment. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” she says, proffering her hand to the first doctor. “I’m still a little new, but Kylo speaks very highly of the services this station oversees across the galaxy.” 

“Thank you. We’re very proud of the relief we’re able to provide, and the crews we’re able to provide extra employment to for deliveries.” The staff grin between her and Kylo and Rey listens as they descend into small talk while Geegee oversees the loading of the metal crates. 

Rey takes the time she’s not expected in conversation to observe what she can. It’s as standard as they come from what she can tell. Staff and droids alike are busy with loading and unloading more metallic crates. Ships are worked on and refueled. The docking area itself is polished and gray, while the doors that hiss open and closed as sentients and droids come and go reveal a crisp, white interior. 

Ben doesn’t linger once they’re all loaded. He confirms payment terms and receipt upon delivery to the village on Ryloth. He and Rey make their goodbyes and board. 

“I’m sorry for that.” Ben swivels his chair around once they’re back in hyperspace, en route to the Outer Rim. “You worried before and I didn’t take it seriously until getting there and introducing you, but I still go by Kylo even there. I should have asked and listened if you’d wanted a secondary name, too.” 

“It’s fine, Ben.” She drums her fingers over her pants, knowing she truly means that. “I’m sure it’s a common enough name, and they’ll probably forget about me by the end of the day.” 

“What makes you say that?” 

She glances down at herself before lifting her eyes back to his. “I didn’t exactly dress to stand out.”

“I’d argue that you contrast Master Solo’s all black thoroughly enough to leave quite an impression, Mistress Rey,” Geegee interjects. “But since I believe you’re referring to the facts you’re younger, smaller, wearing no memorable jewelry of any kind and, from what I could tell, didn’t contribute much to the conversation, I believe you’re correct in saying you’ll be easily forgotten.” 

“Thanks Geegee.” She cuts her eyes at the droid as he accepts her words, either not noticing or caring at the sarcasm there. She looks back to Ben, who’s grinning and picking at nonexistent pieces of dirt or buildup on the side control panel, and asks if he’s ever been to Ryloth before.

“No.” He straightens in his seat, something opening in his posture. Like he’s eager to engage in this conversation. “I’ve read a great deal about it, though, and it’s a place I’ve always wanted to visit, though not specifically where we’ll be.” 

“Oh?” 

“We’ll be in a more rural area,” Ben explains. “The villages here make a living off of farming on volcanic soil. One of the nearby volcanoes erupted several months back. We’re delivering supplies to restock their newly rebuilt medical clinic—bacta patches, annual vaccinations, cleaning solutions, bandages, and some surgical equipment. It’s supplementary until full funding from their government kicks in and they’re able to provide themselves with more.” 

“A simple and not-too-involved delivery run. Just as you said.” 

His mouth twitches in something that could be mistaken for a smirk. “That’s the secret to blending in, Rey. Do the jobs that’ll never be remembered, that aren’t big or flashy enough, and do them well, and you’ll only be remembered when people want a similar job pulled again.” 

“I can blend!” Rey blurts, now waving her arms over herself. “This is simple and practical, and at least I’m a normal height and not stalking about like some tree draped in black!” 

Oh, he’s smirking now. Smirking to keep from laughing. She’s not that experienced with teasing for the sake of fun, but this is… it’s pleasant. She has to ponder a minute, but decides in the end it’s very nice actually, and she doesn’t want the moment to end just yet. 

  
“Would we have time to visit anywhere else on Ryloth?” 

“Not sure.” He cants his head at her. “Why?” 

“You said you’ve wanted to visit, but not our specific delivery area.” She leans forward in her seat, her braid falling over her shoulder as she does. “Where would you like to go?” 

“I…” He trails off, though his mouth remains open, and Rey follows his eyes. It’s her braid, and she can’t find what he’s looking at. It hasn’t come undone and she’s not got something in it. She’s about to ask him about it when she lifts her eyes, but he’s already looking at the upper control panel, dragging a hand through his hair now. He continues, “I don’t know where I’d start, actually. An ancestor of mine came to Ryloth’s aid in the Clone Wars, and I’d thought I’d like to start there. With official records if possible. But the Empire likely destroyed or altered what would be easily available for public access.” 

“I see,” Rey offers, and they regard each other with friendly smiles before Ben swivels back around and asks Geegee some questions. 

Rey doesn’t pay attention to them. Doesn’t consider them at all as she’s lost to the labyrinth of her own thoughts. Ben doesn’t elaborate on his ancestor’s name, and Rey doesn’t ask him to. She doesn’t need him to—she knows he means Anakin Skywalker. She has a vague recollection of events on Ryloth during the Clone Wars from one of her history lessons. 

It shocks her that it’s only here and now that she puts all the pieces together. That she fully understands when Ben’s told her, “ _ It’s complicated _ .” Everything falls into place. All the names, holo headlines, and news vids from years ago. 

She understands what everything means now. 

Ben Solo is the son of Han Solo and Leia Organa. Leia is the twin sister of Luke Skywalker—a fact that’s not the first remembered when thinking of the former Senator, but Rey remembers it now. She remembers the scandal when the galaxy learned that their father, Anakin Skywalker—Jedi Knight, General of the Clone Wars and hero of the Old Republic—had also been none other than Darth Vader. 

She stares at the back of Ben’s head as he’s casually arguing with his droid. So normal, thoughtful, and kind. 

It’s as impossible as it is unbelievable and amazing. 

The greatest symbols of darkness and light, of evil and hope, two names more widely known and recognized then another others across the galaxy, all rolled into a single person. A person who had been the father of twins. One of whom has a son named Ben, and the other who followed down the Jedi path and apparently tried to teach Ben as well. 

Ben says he killed his master—his  _ uncle _ —but Rey has doubts. Doubts that she’s attempted to discuss with Ben before, but he’s too convinced. And that’s fine for now; perhaps it’s that he’s not ready. Not yet. But Rey knows what she knows. 

For one, she  _ knows _ Ben, and Ben’s not a killer. What he described to her was self-defense. A complete accident. And secondly, Rey’s not convinced Luke Skywalker is dead. She’s heard chatter and comms. She knows bounty hunters have been hired by the First Order to search him out. But Ben’s tucked himself away so deep and far, only listening out for data that would have him noticed or seen, he’s let the rest of what’s to be known and heard out there go.

Or maybe he doesn’t want to hope, Rey considers. Maybe hope brought too much pain along with it. Because he’s certainly right in that it’s complicated. Ben’s past is a complex quagmire, shrouded in a thick fog. Rey doesn’t like complicated—she believes in simple solutions and seeks out the most efficient and direct approach. Always. 

It’s how she was trained. Maybe this is another way she can help Ben. Uncomplicating the past certainly won’t be an easy task, and one not so clear cut as Rey would prefer, but perhaps this is something they can be on the hunt for together. Maybe they can dig and search for answers along the way with their jobs. 

He’s given her reason to hope for a second chance, for new beginnings in life. Perhaps that’s something she can offer right back to him. 

Geegee’s mechanic voice cuts through her thoughts, and she blinks to see a holo turn fade away. She apparently sat through a briefing and caught nothing… And now grits her teeth as she considers the consequences of this. Geegee will be pleased with the opportunity to relay details—smug even. As if he’s telling a small child. She stifles a groan, thinking there’s a possibility this mission could go very wrong and end with the dismembering of a droid—if he pushes her too far. 

She could always blame it on a Force training accident of sorts if so. 

* * *

Ben’s exhausted. And stinky, sweaty, and  _ gross. _ He wants a shower and food and to sleep in a bed tonight. But he’ll be back on the floor outside Rey’s room in a heartbeat should he wake to her screams again. 

The delivery went off well enough, but the terrain had been a challenge to cover with all the crates, and there had been more stairs down to lower levels than he’d anticipated. And also apparently buildings in caves near volcanoes can  _ really  _ hold their heat. Afterwards, Rey’d decided for the two of them they should seek out the village leader who would have ideas for records unaltered by the Empire. He’d regarded her as if she’d sprouted another head in the middle of asking, and told her simply that they were still recovering their losses in light of recent events and she’d have to search elsewhere. 

She’d been obviously irritated by that response, and coupling that with the fact she’s been giving him these long looks all throughout the job that she either denies or declines to expand on. Ben’s frankly confused by this point, too. 

It’s safe to say he’s not in the best state of mind when Rey asks him how they should start her training when they’re back in the common area of the  _ Steadfast _ . 

“We start with food, then getting clean, and then sleep,” he says without a second glance over his shoulder as he stalks to the galley and rifles through the cabinets. Maybe he should eat  _ two _ nutrition bars tonight, and have an extra serving of dried fruit. 

“I’m serious, Ben.”

That stops his movements and he blinks at her, almost incredulous. “So am I, Rey. An empty belly is a distraction. Being tired lowers your defenses and mental shields. A healthy body is a healthy mind and keeps you ready and alert.” 

“You were neither of those things in the cockpit when we left Pijal, and I  _ know _ what I felt then.” She folds her arms over her chest as she stands her ground. She’s not arguing and strangely enough, he can tell she’s not accusing. 

It’s a fact as much as it is a question. 

His mouth runs dry and his throat bobs as he answers. “That was different. I’ve been closed off to the Force for so long, I’d forgotten what it takes to hold him back while opening myself. It was easy for him to break through.” 

“You… you closed yourself off from the Force?” He can’t decide if she sounds more shocked or confused that such a thing is possible. Or maybe even pained, which leaves him feeling pained, too. 

“It’s not easy, and not something I recommend actively trying.” He licks his lips and moves to the door frame of the galley, food an afterthought now. “But it was what made the most sense to try and do after I fled the Temple. The Voice was so loud. So harsh and demanding I come to him. I would feel so angry and scared over everything, but mostly myself. I didn’t want to accidently bring harm to my new crew, and at the time, it seemed easiest and best. But now that I’ve opened myself up again, all I see I’ve done is weaken my defenses.” 

She takes three steps towards him, her head tilting up and her braid falling behind her back as she does. “How do we start then? How do you get stronger and I learn where to begin?” 

He swallows something between a groan and a sigh and drops to the floor, folding his legs before he can be distracted any further by her braid… her eyes… and that spatter of freckles over her nose. “We start with meditation then. Clearing your mind. No distractions, no worries, no fears.” 

“Oh yes, because that’s easy enough,” Rey snorts, but follows his lead, plopping down and folding her legs, too. “What do I do with my hands?” 

“Whatever you prefer.” Ben doesn’t want to sound too teachery. Too strict and formal. They’re both adults in this… mostly. Within hundreds of star systems Rey would meet age standards of adulthood. But that’s a distraction, too. Ben doesn’t say anything more until he inhales deep, holds, and exhales slowly. “My arms are long and my hands feel too big to both occupy my lap at the same time, so I usually end up folding my hands in and pressing my knuckles against the floor.” 

To her credit, she doesn’t laugh at him. Doesn’t even giggle. She’s grinning though, and maybe it’s merely a trick of the light the flecks of brown and gold in her eyes are dancing at him. Her eyes fall closed before he can look deeper to inspect this phenomenon. 

It’s a distraction the entire time they meditate together, even with both of their eyes closed, but Rey doesn’t need to know that. It’s also not one he can bring himself to regret. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I love this chapter sooooo much, and I’m impatient 🙈🙈🙈
> 
> For anyone who is curious, if you go to YouTube, type in “puffer pig Rebels”   
> I just really couldn’t resist the fun of puffer pigs once I learned the “Ghost” and “Millennium Falcon” were both Corellian made... 
> 
> Love and thanks, endless thanks, to you all

* * *

There’s this peculiar thing that happens with time once in space—it remains even when it’s the furthest thing from one’s thoughts. When it’s long since faded from mind and memory like a planet shrinking in the distance brought by thrusters and an engine. Seconds, minutes, hours, even days can blur and streak together, like stars when jumping to hyperspace. 

Rey once measured days diligently, marking when she achieved one goal and counting down how long she believed it would take until she accomplished her next. She no longer maintains this ritual with Ben. Time is measured in successful jobs and daily meditation. There’s little things, too, like learning to lift her cup and plate with the Force… But that’s all still spotty and unpredictable.

She considered keeping track of nights between nightmares, but they’re such long stretches between, she estimates it’s weeks between the occasional one that slips in and steals a restful night from her. Ben always asks her how she slept, and she always answers honestly. She considered concealing the second nightmare from him, thinking he’d decide to sleep outside her quarters, on the floor, for the rest of time, and considering it would show her as weak and powerless. But Ben reminds her of his nightmares over the years. He shares they’re hard for him, too. And they’ve returned. 

And so time is now measured in moments Rey and Ben share helping each other. It’s a collection of threads where sometimes Ben opens up first, and teaches or shares something with her. They’re firm and honest, but wrapped in gentle kindness, as opposed to Rey’s brutish outbursts of emotion. It’s infuriating, training herself to be honest. To share. To peel back the mask she’s so cleverly fashioned for herself; in many ways, it seems she’s learning to shatter it, piece by piece, and with her own two hands. 

Time is another day with Ben (and Geegee, she’ll admit reluctantly to herself) that she looks over her shoulder and finds no one looking at her; when she sees the shadows remain empty and void of threat. 

She’s not used to such consistent gifts and luxuries—not in the form of trust, laughs, learning, and fun, at least. And she doesn’t take this time for granted… 

* * *

Ben’s acutely aware of his every breath, of every heartbeat that ticks by. That tends to happen when caught up in a situation, though. 

He’s thought this through every angle he can come up with. He’s taken Geegee’s calculations and information into account, and even attempted to mediate for any alternative option—though mediation came as a bit of a challenge while being squawked at, squealed at, and spoken down to. 

Unfolding his legs, he rises from the cold floor of the  _ Steadfast _ , eyeing the situation at hand with a grimace again, dragging a hand through his hair. Opening his mouth—

“Don’t patronize me, Ben Solo.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He frowns, taking two steps nearer to the problem. “And your face is squished facing the cockpit, so you couldn’t know that I was going to.” 

“I sensed it,” Rey huffs. Actually huffs, as if talking is the strain it appears to be at this precise moment. “You were going to say something aimed to make me feel better... but I don’t want to hear it.” 

“I wasn’t going to—”

“Master Solo,” Geegee interrupts, setting Ben’s nerves on the ready for anything to be said.  _ Anything _ . “Statistically speaking, you do tend to focus on the positives whenever either Mistresses Rey or myself are in the process of pointing out negative variables. You have also taken on a more vocal means of expressing encouragement in the time since Mistress Rey has joined our crew, so I’m of the mindset to agree with Mistress Rey in this instance. I believe I also agree we’d rather not hear it.” 

_ Force take him now… _

He doesn’t have to take this. He’s not some dew-eyed idealist. He’s practical, rational, intelligent, intuitive, and, and… 

He  _ knew  _ this was a bad idea. 

Ben draws a sharp breath, determined to set his voice just so. He’ll show them… “Triple check the calculations since you’re stuck in the cockpit, Geegee,” he drawls—actually  _ drawls!  _ Like he had as an always-irritated adolescent and someone was grating on his nerves. “It’s less direct than I wanted, and check the status of the compressor. Make sure we’re good to drop out and make a quick jump back in.” 

“Very well, Master Solo.” 

“Thank you.” With that, he exaggerates his movements, making sure each step and click of his boot to the floor echoes across the front of the ship as he turns and marches to the galley. 

“ _ Ben!” _ Rey wheezes loudly. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“To the galley.” 

“That nutrition ration nonsense you still try to pass off as food isn’t going to coax this puffer pig back his normal size.” She pauses, taking strained sounding breaths that make him wonder if she’s about to soften that tone any… “Beside that, all your stomping isn’t helping any to calm him, so walk a little softer, if you don’t mind.” 

_ I think not _ , he decides for himself. “I’ll walk as I please on my own ship,” he answers, as bored and uninterested as he can make himself sound. “And I was going to make tea for both of us, but now I believe I’ll just make myself a cup of caf and enjoy that until this situation works itself out.” 

“Caf?! Ben, no!” 

He shouldn’t be grinning right now, as he starts walking again and not stopping, he  _ really  _ shouldn’t…

“BEN! You’ll have to grind beans that’ll scare this puffer even more!” 

“I’ll close the door so he can’t hear it,” Ben counters, now fully embracing and enjoying this new twist to the day. 

They’d arrived early, landing in a grassy plain the night before the pick-up so he and Rey could spar together in an open space using staffs he’d purchased for them. Rey had shown no mercy, even going so far as to tease him for his age and slow, unpracticed speed. He’d taken it all quietly, knowing two truths in the situation. One, Rey was correct, and Ben was older than her. By a decade—maybe? Not more than that he thinks. And two, Ben  _ was _ out of practice with his forms. It had fallen out of his daily routine years ago, and while he’s tried to get back into the habit of at least daily forms without his lightsaber, he’s not consistent yet. 

In other words, Ben had his ass handed to him this morning before the client delivered their cargo. But it was Rey’s idea to loose one of the puffer pigs and walk him around the ship—she’s heard how “cute and intelligent they actually are”, and Ben was minding his own business, coming back to the cockpit to ask Geegee about their route when the thing had been startled enough to puff out, squishing Rey into the left side wall and trapping Geegee in the cockpit. He imagines Rey’s getting very uncomfortable, and would just assume this situation be done with, but she had to go and poke fun at the food. 

After the plans he’s made for a shopping trip once they make this delivery on Lothal… 

“No caf, Ben! Pleeeeeaaaaaasseeee!” 

“You said you weren’t injured, Rey,” he answers back, using one of those sing-song tones he recalls his dad and Lando using against each other when tables had turned. “And he should start to calm down once we’re all quiet and about our own things, right?” 

“I believe that logic checks out, Master Solo,” Geegee answers, louder than his usual setting; he must have adjusted quickly, anticipating the moment he’ll get to make some snarky retort. 

“Ya see?” He tosses a salute back to no one in particular. Rey’s face is still pressed to the cockpit so she can’t roll her eyes, and GG-728 doesn’t have the ability to see through anything… It makes him feel good nonetheless. “I’ll make the caf and keep quiet while drinking the pot, and this guy will be back to normal in no time.” 

He catches Rey muttered phrases like “nerf-herder” and “moof-milker” as he walks, but doesn’t catch the last one. It’s enough for Geegee to loose a mechanical gasp, along with an admonishing, “Mistress  _ Rey! _ That’s no way to speak of the captain of this ship!” 

“Shhhhhhh!” Rey huffs and hisses back. “Whatever, Geegee. Just… no more talking until this guy’s back to his normal size.” 

Ben bites back a smile, deciding he’ll surprise her with an extra box of baked treats on top of the fruit once they’re paid.

He imagines the shine in her eyes over “real food” and goes all warm in his chest. Warm and tingly, like igniting sparks with wires…

Not too bad a day, after all. 

* * *

“I would prefer to not take this job.” 

“It’s a simple delivery run.” Rey blinks, more than a little confused and quite incredulous. “How bad can this be?”

“It’s not the delivery—”

Geegee didn’t let him finish, calling out from the cockpit. “The Toydarian had acquired a friend with claws when Master Solo last dealt with her.” 

“Oh.” Rey smirks now, having no intention of letting Ben get away with this. “Don’t tell you’re afraid of a few  _ claws _ ?” 

He mutters something under his breath and she tilts her face so as to exaggerate feigning listening. 

“What was that?” she asks, a happy, playful feeling washing over her. “You’ll have to speak up, I didn’t quite catch that.” 

“It’s not just the claws!” Ben’s indignant—insistent, even, as he huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s a Sabetue. A  _ Sabetue _ , Rey. Big. Very big.” 

It’s an effort to keep her face still, but manages it. “You’re very tall,” she points out, eyeing him up and down. “Very broad and taut. Then there’s what you can do with the Force. I can’t imagine anything like a Sabetue would be enough to intimidate you.” 

“That’s the wrong attitude.” His boot is tapping against the floor now, and he seems to double in size as he glowers harder and every muscle appears to tighten under his thin, long-sleeve, black shirt. They’ve only just woken, and while Rey is fully ready for the day (top and pants optimal for most of their usual jobs, heeled boots zipped up to knees, hair braided, coiled and pinned to be pretty while out of her face) Ben has yet to don his jacket and hip hugging holster. “The Force isn’t some weapon to wield against adversaries and furthermore, you’re still having difficulty summoning objects to yourself because you’re not focusing hard enough, and—” 

“I’m seeing it as a tool rather than an ally,” she supplies for him. Apparently he’s awake enough to deliver a lecture. Lucky her. “I know, Ben. Working on it.” 

He softens, and it’s truly that in every sense of the word. Watching Ben Solo yield his defenses, all frustration draining from him, it’s as watching butter melt under a direct heat source. It does something funny to Rey to know she’s usually the reason behind Ben softening.

“I know,” he murmurs, arms dropping to his sides. “You’re making great progress, Rey. I promise. It’s harder to train your thoughts for a new way of thinking when you’re already set in one direction.” 

“Yes…” Rey doesn’t like this sudden turn in the conversation. For as much as she enjoys soft Ben, it makes her feel weak being at what she can only presume is still very much a beginner level after daily training around and between jobs. She clears her throat, saying brightly, “So we’re agreed, then? This is an opportunity for you to train your thoughts and open yourself to the possibility that the Sabetue won’t hurt you?” 

“Wait a minute!” Ben’s arms fly back to his chest, furled as he hunches and glares. “Claws  _ hurt _ . Big claws  _ really _ hurt. I’m not the crazy one here.” 

Reason clearly isn’t working; she’ll have to try for an alternative tactic. One that involves not answering, not even speaking. She goes very still, her breathing slow as she studies him with. She takes her time as she drags her eyes over every centimeter of his impressive form, admitting to herself that she can still enjoy the view while she’s trying something. 

“ _ What?! _ ” he sputters as she makes it to his face, finding his cheeks flushed a deep pink. He’s resumed tapping his boot against the floor again, and Rey knows her mission has been accomplished. 

“I was just thinking,” she begins, voice silken and sweet. “The way you look  _ now _ , standing like that, you must have been an adorable little boy. You have those big, pleading dark eyes, the way your arms get all mad and huffy, and with your full pouting lips...” She trails off as his face reddens completely. “Very adorable indeed.” 

She turns on her heel, taking great care with her movements as she sashays to join Geegee. 

Ben doesn’t follow, rooted in place halfway between the galley and the cockpit, his “food” that needed heat to expand (or whatever) ready at any moment. “I’m  _ not _ pouty!” he protests.  _ Loud  _ and honestly adorable. So very adorable. 

_ Oh _ , _ Ben… Silly boy. _ Rey pauses, turning slightly, bringing a hand to rest between her collarbone and neck as she eyes the taut, massive tree of a man again. She lingers on his lips and smirks. “I believe what I said was your  _ lips _ are full and pouty. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” 

His jaw tightens, and she can see the bob in his throat as he heaves a sharp breath. “I don’t pout,” he mumbles, half-hearted and as if he wished he’d said something else. 

She’s not wasting time with speculating on what it could have been though. Her work is done. Now all that’s left is to reassure him. “I meant it as a good thing, Ben,” she says, waiting for his eyes to lock with hers again before she gets back easy things. Practical things like going to the cockpit to discuss details with Geegee and ask a few questions. 

* * *

Rey’s stripped herself down, indulging in the spray of hot water and steam of the shower. It’s her reward for the success of this job. It’s one that she carried out mostly herself, Ben remaining aboard the  _ Steadfast,  _ hovering over the city once the cargo was unloaded. They hadn’t a cloaking device, but Ben wanted to “practice stealth flying”—whatever that means. 

Using some of her new, more custom-made for women shampoos, Rey lathers, washes, and rinses her hair. Then does it again. Then repeats the process with a dash of conditioner. She giggles to herself as she washes her hair, then makes slow work of bathing. “Ben’s allergic to shopping. That’s all there is to it.” The job had been one he hadn’t been overly interested in: returning to Pijal, specifically to their moon for shipment of kohlen crystals to be delivered to a jeweler of one of the smaller worlds of Hosnian Prime. 

His argument can’t be that they were risking too much taking on this new client, not when they’ve made three successful delivery runs for Lotta,  _ and _ this was a referral from Lotta. “It’s only logical to presume Ben doesn’t care for shopping, then,” Rey says to her reflection as she exits the shower. Wrapping herself in a towel, she steps closer to the mirror and checks the healing bruise on her upper arm. “Well, not shopping as  _ I _ like. Maybe…”

Which is funny because Ben wasn’t so reluctant to shop with her the first couple of times. He was happy to be along, even. He would mutter something about a second set of eyes and follow her into stalls and shops. Pulling at a draw, she takes out a tube of salve, applying it liberally to the bruise. Maybe Ben wanted to stay on board to nurse a few welps of his own. They’d begun sparring together in the last weeks…? Month…? Maybe two months…? 

Rey scrunches her nose as she returns the tube of salve to the drawer—she’ll have to ask Geegeee how long it’s been since joining their crew. That doesn’t seem to matter as much anymore, except in the sense that she’s gotten away with it for now. Every day she’s safe with Ben, and even Geegee, it means that she’s not been found and taken away by a bounty hunter. And she enjoys sparring the most out of all her Force training. That feels the most tangible of anything, which she’s reluctant to admit to Ben, but there it is.  _ Feeling _ the Force while remaining in control in every circumstance—it reminds her too much of always being on her guard growing up on Qi’ra’s ship. She has no intention of constantly ‘sensing’ for danger, when it’s just as efficient to study their surroundings, find the suspicious faces to keep an eye on, and go about their work. 

Back to the shopping though, Rey doesn’t get it. Patting herself dry with the towel, and dropping it to the floor, she opens her closet and pulls at a dress. They’re on the ship for the rest of the evening, but Rey feels like wearing a dress, especially  _ this _ one. It’s drapey, long, and loose, something that cinches at the waist and makes her feel pretty while being comfortable. Of course, she’ll be cold at some point, because of the lack of sleeves, but that’s what blankets are for once the salve has dried. 

“It’s also what tea’s for,” she mutters to herself as she runs her towel and clothes from earlier through a laundry cycle. “But I keep forgetting  _ that _ .” And really, she’s furious with herself that clothing shops and a few food stalls keep taking priority over tea.  _ Tea _ . She budgets time and money for underthings that are little more than scraps of lace because that also goes a long way with her feeling pretty underneath the nondescript tops and pants she sometimes wears, and even remembers to look for the good shampoos and make up brands,  _ while still forgetting the tea _ . 

“Ugh,” she tutts to herself, setting her datapad down on the table in the common area, eyes trained on the galley. Now she’s stuck making do with this tasteless mixture of leaves and whatever dirt flavor spices have been added for “flavor”. Truly, Rey thinks this company cares nothing for producing a quality product and should be—

Wait. 

Her fingers curl around the counter-top as she just stands there. In the galley. Blinking down at the new container. It’s obviously a tea box, she can see the sections of tea leaves through the ornately patterned top. It’s one of the larger models, and one that’s been designed to seal each individual section when closed so the flavors don’t mingle. It’s a smaller version of one Qi’ra kept in her room. 

But where did—?

_ When _ did—?

_ Who??  _

“Ben!” She whirls and yells, the long skirt of her dress fluttering around her ankles as she marches her slippered feet across the common area… “BEN?!” 

“Hardly any need to shout on board this ship, Rey.” 

“Ben!” She’s more than relieved hearing his voice; it calms her already as she turns back to the galley. “There’s a new— _ oh! _ Kriff! What  _ are _ you doing?” 

Ben simply blinks at her from his perch. “Reading and waiting for you,” he answers cooly. As if it’s a common occurrence for her to find him balancing upside down in the air, reading a book. In the first place, it’s a  _ book _ book—not a datapad. One of those old-fashioned things he’s offered to her once before, but she’s declined. (Because it’s a  _ book _ , and no one in the galaxy bothers with those anymore.) But in the second place, he’s upside down. He’s upside down and propped himself against the wall, legs folded as if he’s sitting and meditating in midair. 

Only, he’s obviously been reading. Oh, and his hair is dangling down and she hasn’t realized until now how very long and dark it is. But when contrasted to the gray of his shirt and lounging trousers… how can she not think of it as its own dark, furry entity now? 

It’s all so comical, and somehow so  _ Ben _ that Rey can’t help and doesn’t even try to stop the giggles from bubbling in her chest and past her lips. “How long have you been there?” she queries. 

“Not long.” He closes his book and floats it to the floor with the Force then proceeds to get himself down from the curious position he’d gotten himself in. It’s silly, but not Ben this time—it’s  _ her _ . Rey’s captivated by him. Can’t look away as he drops his arms and lays his hands flat on the floor. He doesn’t let go of his hold on the Force until his legs are stretched out and he’s now in the position of a handstand…

And that tight shirt seems to have slipped from the inside of his pants, and she catches a stripe of pale, taut skin before he drops himself upright, righting his clothes and running a hand through his hair... 

Rey’s mouth runs dry, and she attempts to swallow. “How did I just miss you?” She waves a hand over the empty space where he’d been… sitting? Hanging? Dangling? 

“Probably the gray.” He shrugs, stooping down to pick up his book. “I have other colors in my wardrobe now. Thanks to you.”

_ And more form-fitting options now _ , Rey adds to herself. The lounging pants hang low on his hips and while made for comfort, they can hardly conceal all the power and muscle that is Ben Solo’s legs. And butt… And kriff! Those abs—like cut marble an _ d _ —

“You… Well, then…”  _ Pull yourself together!  _ She stops before she can make a complete nerko of herself, clearing her throat twice before she’s able to speak to him again. “I think, if you’re interested, there would be enough room on this bench for the both of us to stretch our legs if you’d like to join me for tea. Unless you prefer the cramped position of upside meditative reading?” 

He cants his head, the corner of his lips quirking a suppressed smile. “Are you sure I’ll be able to appreciate such refined flavors?” 

“I wouldn’t go  _ that _ far,” she teases, catching herself in time before she winks at him.  _ Winks _ . 

“Thank you, then. I think I would.” 

She sets herself back to her original task. Work is good. Something to occupy herself with is  _ good _ . She needs to add another cup to the tray, which isn’t a problem. The cream and sugar need to be on the tray, too—and yes, there’s enough sugar still. She can’t remember the last time she restocked this, but Ben’s brew requires more sugar than anything to properly stomach it, and now bring the pot to the tray, and—

Ben’s standing behind her, waiting. Well, not  _ right _ there so that he’s in the way, but he’s still  _ there _ , in the door space between the galley and common area, his arms extended. “I’ll get the tray, you bring the cupcakes.” 

“Cupcakes?!” She all but shoves the tray at him, unapologetic at the giddy squeal—she  _ loves _ cupcakes. This was all planned. Somehow he’d plotted for this. “Where did you—?  _ How _ … And  _ when _ ?” 

“There was a bakery across from the tea shop. I got Geegee to do a scan of the food district while you were checking the cargo before dropping you two off, and thought I’d give myself a field trip.” 

Rey’s a little starstruck as she brings the box of not one, not two, not even  _ three,  _ but  _ four  _ whole cupcakes to the table. Four. Implying Ben is either going to forget all about whatever nutritionally adequate rationing waste of stomach space he calls food for  _ two _ whole cupcakes… Or he’ll join her for one, and leave the last three for her. She almost enjoys that second option better, and is about to ascertain precisely how many of these delectable treats he plans on eating, mentally preparing to argue the frosting will be too rich and won’t agree with him, so she’s only looking out for him in suggesting he only eat  _ one _ … 

When she stops in her tracks. 

And she doesn’t know why. 

_ Liar _ . 

That’s fair, actually. She knows exactly why she’s stopped in her tracks at the table. It’s just… something different. It’s not as if she’s never seen Ben before. He’s a face and presence she’s well familiar with now. But he’s been looking at her. He was watching her come back from the galley with the box of cupcakes in hand, gaze waiting for hers to lock to his. 

He was looking at her on purpose and holds her stare. 

All air flees from Rey’s lungs. 

It’s not uncommon for them to see each other. Or even watch each other—Rey does it, too. Safety precaution after all. One should know where one’s partner is at all times… and it’s not a weakness to look for him on the ship when it’s been silent for too long a stretch of time… Or search for his figure if they’ve been split up to accomplish a task while on the job. She knows it's out of concern for his safety—that it’s probably the same for him, too...

But the way he’s looking at her now, a soft smile, one so small he probably isn’t even aware of it, he’s not thinking of her safety. No. It’s like he’s drinking her in, like she’s all he wants to see and he couldn’t look away even if he tried. Like he has a thousand things to tell her, and decides to do it with his eyes. 

Steeling her nerves, she rounds the table and curls the fingers of her right hand under his chin. “Thank you, Ben,” she whispers, pressing her lips to his cheek. 

She doesn’t linger. Can hardly bring herself to meet his eye for the next several minutes after that. It’s hardly the first time she’s kissed a man’s cheek—that’s something easy enough to give away and use for distraction while maintaining the upper hand. But it’s the first time she’s wanted to give a kiss. The first time she’s considered it a gift, and one she’s chosen to bestow of her own free will. 

She doesn’t dare think of how soft and warm his cheek was against her lips. How smooth and fine it felt, and how absolutely perfect the rest of his face would be, too… 

No. Rey doesn’t think of these things at all as she finds something to read on the holonet and enjoys the luxuries of actual tea and cupcakes in comfortable silence with Ben. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love and thanks to QuinTalon, madi_solo, and especially Frumpologist. This is all written and completed, and even if updates are not be exactly on Sundays, they'll always happen <3   
> I'm so grateful to each and every one of you wonderful people reading and leaving such kind reviews. Thank you all so much. It means the world to me.

* * *

Ben understands the concept of touch. Rationally, he  _ knows _ he’s constantly touching and  _ being  _ touched throughout the day. At any given moment, various pieces of clothing are clinging to or brushing against his skin. His hair is even long enough to fall over his neck, ears, and brow. If he doesn’t leave his ship for a stretch of several standard days, he’s still touching levers, twisting knobs, punches buttons, and flicking switches from the cockpit and galley for food and water. Not to mention the physical contact that’s necessary when sitting down. 

Even so, there’s touch, and then there’s  _ touch _ . 

There’s the way his mom would nestle him in her lap and sing to him an Alderanian lullaby, “ _ Mirrorbright shines the moon…”  _ To this day, the scent of Ithorian roses wafts in his nose when he thinks of that song sung to soothe. 

There’s the memory of being held in the strong, hairy embrace of Chewie,  _ Uncle  _ Chewie—until that embrace would end, and said uncle would hold him out at arms length and toss young Ben into the air, eliciting happy sounds as Ben would squeal and laugh. Being caught by a Wookie was a thing of fun, too, and Ben used to beg for it over and over again as a small child. 

Han would ruffle Ben’s hair after it had been freshly combed. It’s funny that’s the main memory that sticks with him of his dad, but there it is. He remembers sitting in his dad’s lap and Han teaching him how to fly, but Ben clings to the small affectionate touch in his memory. It’s his to cherish for the duration of his life. 

Which is how he knows he’s waist deep in Bantha shit.

Rey kissed his cheek. 

She. Kissed. His. Cheek. 

It’s unlike anything he’s ever received before, but he imagines it’s what feathers against his cheek would feel like. Or butterfly wings. But warmer. Firmer. Because her lips pressed to his cheek is something Ben felt and still does down to his marrow. He doesn’t think it’s possible to forget the tingle in his skin when Rey’s lips touched his face. 

It’s not something he wants to forget.  _ Ever _ . 

He’d had a goal in mind while flying through the cloud cover after dropping Rey and the cargo off. He knew precisely what he was after when landing in a small clearing of trees and sprinting off to the food district. He knew that he was making a purchase for Rey—an expensive purchase. One he actually had no idea how well-received it would be, because this is all out of his realm of expertise. A long time ago, he’d known something of tea, but that was all too distant and fuzzy be of any use in the cast teashop he’d found himself in. The shop owner had been most insistent on the box Ben selected, if the recipient knew  _ anything _ of tea. 

Ben hoped it’d be enough. Wanted more than anything for it to be something Rey would love and smile over. Something that would make her feel cared for and wanted... The cupcakes had been an impulse buy; mostly because Ben enjoys Rey’s eyes aglow over something that makes her happy. 

He actually more than “enjoys” happy Rey. It’s something he’ll guard and protect with every fiber of his being, every beat of his heart. He’d willingly hand over every last credit to his name, his ship and lightsaber to ensure Rey’s safe and happy for the remainder of her days, never giving a second glance over her shoulder again. 

But he’s getting ahead of himself with that, and besides, that Rey is a Rey without Ben. A Benless Rey, because it’s the life he lives now… And Ben’s self-aware enough to admit he prefers a life that includes Rey to any other. 

Rey makes him excited to get out of bed every morning. Even if he comes out to find she’s already up and grumbling at being out of “real food” and forcing down one of his ration meals, he finds he prefers that to the silence that he’d lived in before Rey. Best is when she bustles and fusses around the galley, trying to recall recipes from chefs and cooks she’s watched growing up. Her nose will usually end up crinkling and she’ll claim it’s “not quite right,” while Ben eats it all, telling her it’s perfect. 

Because it always is. 

He can hardly wait for tomorrow morning! Rey should easily find the purchases he’s stored for a thick, hearty soup, and a slow-baked, fluffier bread to go with it. It’ll make for a welcome meal after their morning spar…

But even that find won’t make the flecks of gold and brown in her eyes dance the way sweets do—hence, the spontaneous cupcake purchase. Because Ben  _ knows _ one of the sights he’ll never recover from is Rey’s eyes when they dance with pure delight. 

He’s heard her talk of a bakery on Canto Bight she visited once. The lavish riches she experienced there, he can’t fathom, and it’d be easy to believe someone would remember such a place for its luxury attractions, but all Rey recalls with any measure of fondness are the cupcakes purchased for her. 

In short, Ben is well aware that he’d meant to make Rey happy with today’s surprise purchases; he just can’t bring himself to sort out the deeper question of  _ why _ . He’s not sure he’s ready to lose himself to that quagmire. 

Or maybe he should resign himself to already  _ being _ lost. Lost to Rey and… and whatever all this was. 

Whatever all this  _ is _ . 

His knuckles whiten as his grip on the counter edge of the ‘fresher hardens. He gives his reflection a hard stare. He’d told himself earlier he selected this skin tight gray undershirt to wear as his only top because he’d wanted to “practice.” Because one must always be comfortable at any position of a room to defend as the situation calls for… 

Ben snorts, yanking the shirt up and over his torso, tossing it to land beside his bed. He’ll decide tomorrow morning if he’ll wear it again for sparring or not. It leaves little to the imagination by way of curiosity, highlighting and bringing attention to every bulge and dip of muscle across this back, torso, chest, and arms. He justified no top layer because said added layer would only come loose from his pants and flop in his face, rendering his exercise useless…

Though, said exercise of balance, concentration, and focus had been quite useless and over-the-top to begin with. 

_ Worth it to see that impressed look in Rey’s eyes…  _

Ben scoffs at his own vanity and pride, shredding his pants and underwear and stepping into the ‘fresher without a second glance back into the mirror. 

The automatic setting is hot, and the spray is instantly warm and soothing over his muscles, relaxing and freeing him to think of better things.

Like Rey’s swift and precise movements in the galley as she’d made the tea. Like she was preparing it for some great dignitary, or even royalty, instead of just Ben… How that dress had fitted nicely around Rey’s waist, and how it showed off her arms. Such lithe, powerful arms, and prone to feeling any sort of chill long before cold actually arrives. 

He hadn’t waited for her to begin to shiver earlier. He’d risen from his side of the bench and lifted his seat to pull out an extra blanket from underneath, handing it to her after she’d had her fill of cupcakes. He wasn’t ready to confess in the moment, and still probably isn’t, that the blanket has been his since forever—it’s from his childhood on Chandrila. It had been left on the  _ Grimtaash _ for whatever reason, but Ben finds he’s thankful for it now. If he’s never to see his family again, he has a tangible reminder of what home once felt like. 

It smelled of Rey as Ben accepted the re-folded bundle of material when they’d decided to say their goodnights. He’d told her he’d get the lights, and she’d teased that he really just wanted to “read upside-down against the wall again.” Ben had laughed at the time, thankful that Geegee had already been powered down for the night, as they’re not leaving the planet until later tomorrow morning. Geegee would have caught Ben dropping his face to the blanket, he just knows it. Geegee would have asked in a setting to be heard everywhere on the ship what Ben was doing, before inquiring if there was something wrong with the blanket and if it was in need of being laundered. 

A harsh laugh breaks from Ben’s throat and he’s suddenly not thinking of his droid anymore. He’s remembering the floral scene of Rey. How she smells of everything clean, fresh and sweet. If he imagines what a drop of sunshine could smell like, all comforting and inviting, that’s how Rey smells. 

It’s who she  _ is _ . 

All light from within, a living, breathing ember. Walking among the crowds as if she’s just another nameless face— _ hoping _ to be a nameless and forgotten face, even more so—but she can never be that. Not to Ben. 

To Ben she’s the dearest and greatest friend he thinks he’ll ever have. She’s bright, intelligent, determined, and persistent in her training. He sees how frustrated she is that she’s immediately at his level, and he tries to remind her he trained for over a decade, but she refuses to allow that as an excuse. She’s devoted to learning, to mastering the unknown and untamed within herself. 

She accepts her fear and fights against it daily. 

Her tastes in basic minimal necessities are more refined and expensive than Ben’s, but he’s not complaining. She spends it on food for them to share or on apparel she insists is necessary, because “one never knows when the situation will call for…” She’s always ready with an answer.

In their early weeks, when Ben complained over  _ another _ deep blue shirt she’d purchased him, and she’d begun to argue over the necessity of appropriate clothing for every occasion, Ben had  _ almost _ thrown back an ask of when she would ever need those lacy undergarments she’d purchased on Pijal. 

_ Almost _ . Emphasis on  _ almost _ . 

Because it had been mortifying to find said box while having to search through all their purchases from the market to ensure no tracker or trace had been placed in their purchases. Ben doesn’t want to ask why she would need... _ them. _

He doesn’t want to know if she wears something so delicate and pretty under her clothes everyday. 

_ Every. Single. Day. _

Something so small and revealing, fitting to the curve of her hips and waist… Inviting him to reach out and—

“Shit!” he groans, flinging an arm out to adjust the temperature settings, making it as cold as he can stand while he fists his suddenly awake and ready for action throbbing member… Willing himself to focus on anything else in the galaxy. 

_ Anything _ . 

Sabetue claws come to mind. Big claws, very big claws. Like Rey still doesn’t understand how massive these claws are. She still giggles, then full on laughs at him… Throwing back her head, making her hair shine in the light, while that pretty little mouth of hers opens wide—

_ NOPE!  _

No, no, no. 

He thinks of garbage chutes and sludge and sewers and rathtars. He thinks of anything covered in slime and oozing pores… long tentacles with suction cups that grab on and only release in certain death… 

It’s a long time before he feels he’s safe to remove himself from the shower, because, kriff. He’s not jerking off to Rey. 

He’s  _ not _ . 

She’s still free to leave him at any time. She could up and decide Ben, the ship, his jobs, Geegee, and this life aren’t for her. She could hide away on some remote planet and live out the rest of her days in peace and ask never to see him again. He’ll help her find just such a place if she asks. 

He hopes she never does. 

He hopes she chooses to stay. Hopes and desires more than anything that Rey chooses  _ him _ when faced with the decision to go or stay… 

“ _ Anything, Young Solo? Interesting.”  _

“No!” 

Ben shoves and pushes at his mind, his knees buckling under the Force of his efforts. He falls to the cold floor of the ‘fresher, his hands grabbing hard fistfuls of his wet hair. Naked he sits, unaware that it’s him saying “no, no, no,” over and over again. He hears it as a plea to the Force, to the universe.

To anyone who might care.  He doesn’t know what he’s begging for. Or against. 

Is it that Rey never be taken from him, or that he never is in a position where he has to choose between keeping her safe and being with her? Is he begging Snoke to get out of his mind and leave him in peace, or is he fighting the inevitable darkness that will one day consume him? Is he pleading against Fate and Destiny that will one day come for him and force him to conquer and destroy all he holds dear?

Is he hearing the cries of Jedi before who’d found themselves betrayed by ones they’d considered friends? Is it his mother’s heart echoing in his chest, her own denial and anguish at learning her true father was the man who’d cruelly forced her to watch an entire planet being snuffed from existence— _ her _ planet. 

Or is it Ben pleading to somehow be free of it all? To be free of the burden of needing answers still… to be free of the lies and legends that overshadow and cling to him still. That haunts his every movement…

Or is he somehow offering himself up willingly as a substitution for Rey? Anything to protect Rey, to keep the Light burning and growing within her. She’s free of the burdens of a legacy, a history and past with the Force… Has his whole life been some twisted cosmic game and everything he’s ever done and been is all for Rey, and training her now? 

He hears no answers. Receives no divine insight on the bathroom floor… His body is dry, and muscles stiff when he finally crawls into bed, and he’s still cold. 

So. Very.  _ Cold _ . 

As if he’s drowning in a sea of ice…

He doesn't want to sleep. Not tonight. 

He doesn’t want to face whatever nightmares wait for him there. 

* * *

Rey is  _ ready _ for this morning. 

Ready and  _ happy _ . 

It’s not often they remain on the planet after finishing a job, but Ben agrees they’ve earned the time and space for some extra sparring. 

She’s done her hair in her favorite braid, one that’s easy and not ridiculously time-consuming, but is still pretty in its functionality. It’s one Ben’s asked her about before, where she learned it. It’s an easy answer—Deethree, as she taught Rey most of her braids. It’d seemed silly while growing up that a droid’s programming should include styling hair, fur, fuzz, and… well, whatever else a sentient could require… But now Rey’s older and making do for herself and knows just how useful seemingly trivial knowledge like this is. 

Suffice it to say that Rey’s armory today conveys just how cheery she is. She’s also snuck to the galley to figure out what to prepare for herself and Ben after they spar this morning—merely as a show of gratitude for his kindness yesterday. 

Nothing more. 

Really. 

It’s  _ just _ that. 

So she tells herself as she pads down the ramp with her wooden staff in hand. She breathes deep of morning mist, pine trees, soil, and water. Ben and Geegee landed them in a clearing of a heavily wooded spot. They flew the  _ Steadfast _ through the clouds so as not to draw as much attention to themselves. Hosnian Prime planets have more rules and regulations for undocumented ships, and scanners frequent the skies to lock onto unknown ships. Rey considers that to be a waste of time and resources, but Ben shrugged it off at the time, citing some bill or ordinance and statistics for how it keeps the system safe and will lower the rate of crime—

Rey had cut him off then. Crime will find a way, and if the  _ Steadfast  _ can slip through without registration—with a cargo that’s nothing illicit or contraband—Rey’s neither stupid or naive enought to believe such bills do much good. 

Ben’s not outside yet, so she starts with stretches. When he still hasn’t come down, she begins to go through her own forms and motions. It feels good to work with a staff of sorts again. She’s worked to obtain such deadly accuracy with throwing knives, but there’s something about a staff in her hands—slicing in through the air and feeling the atmosphere hum and part for her in response. 

At least, that’s how she’d put it to Qi’ra once, and she couldn’t tell what Qi’ra had made of it at the time, based on the non-descript response she’d received. 

Sweat collects on Rey’s temples and dots all along her brow before she hears Ben lumbering down the ramp. She stops herself mid-form to jog over to him—

“Sorry I’m late,” he mumbles. “Gimme a few to stretch and we’ll begin.” 

“Okay.” It’s the only response she can muster because Ben looks exhausted. His hair lacks its usual luster and bounce, and he’s wearing that same fitted, gray outfit from their tea and cupcakes yesterday, but the pants and shirt are all wrinkled, as if he rid himself of his clothing last night and left everything in a heap. And that’s not like Ben at all. 

She studies Ben as he stretches, notes the rise and fall of his chest. How tight he holds his jaw this morning. The visible tension rippling across his shoulders and down his back. The white of his knuckles as he grips his staff to assist with some of his stretches… Rey doesn’t consider herself an expert of the Force by any stretch of the imagination; the vast majority of it thus far is based on feelings, and… for as much as she trusts them, she also agrees it’s subjective. And she can be wrong. 

She’s not wrong in knowing two things before they begin to spar: one, something’s wrong with Ben and whatever it is happened after he went back to his quarters last night. Two, it’s utterly different than anything she’s felt before. The Force is  _ alive  _ within Ben. Raw energy crackles and sparks all around him, even from inside thim. Dark coils gather and collide and he’s as a contained storm, walking up to her on two legs. 

His face is as stone, eyes dull, and lifeless, as if he’s trying to shut something down. Part of himself. “Ready?” he asks and she nods. 

She brings her staff into position and Ben responds. Let the storm be unleashed. 

* * *

Ben Solo is the most complex and frustrating man Rey has ever encountered—no, make that sentient. Because right now, he’s just the  _ worst _ . 

He will  _ not _ fight  _ back _ !

They’re supposed to be challenging each other, testing each other’s limits. Ben’s supposed to be admonishing her that she’s not using the Force, that she’s not feeling it enough, or going into that deeper meditative state as she’s fighting. He’s supposed to quirk a brow at her and smirk as he informs her that he knows because if she had been, he wouldn’t have been able to make a specific move against her. 

_ This  _ Ben is silent as death. 

It’s as if the only method of fighting back the raging storm within himself is to squelch it. That he can choke it to death by refusing its hold over him… And he’s going to “peace”, “no emotion”, and “no letting go” it to death. Or until he shakes free this morning. 

Too bad he’s now stuck with Rey and she doesn’t put up with Bantha fodder like that. 

She sucks a deep breath, reaching out… and listens. They’ve completed a set and aren’t even gasping for air and mercy with each other. Rey’s arm isn’t aching with the effort of swinging, jabbing, blocking, and absorbing Ben’s powerful blows. She doesn’t quite know if this will work, but… it doesn’t feel  _ wrong _ … 

“Again!” she yells, in position, staff raised high. 

“Wha—”

“Again!” She doesn’t let him finish his question. It’s something she remembers from her trainer growing up. Even Qi’ra. And from her experience, any interruption in training is irritating. Ben’s jaw remains tight, but his eyes have begun to flash as she attempts to land blow after blow. 

Good.

She refuses him time and space to retreat, crowding him every chance he attempts to disengage. That cold fury in him snaps and balks—she  _ feels  _ it. Feels him. Feels something in him wanting to fight back,  _ hard _ . Feels his battle is more internal right now than anything else. 

_ Fear _ . 

She feels that now, too. 

A bitter poison on her tongue as she brings the fight closer to Ben. As she stretches out and…  _ connects _ . It’s the only word she can use to describe it. She’s connected to something larger than herself. Life and death surround them, light and shadows. The sun rises, chasing away the morning chill with it—Rey wants Ben’s shadows to flee with it. She wants that fear to dissipate with the morning mist. 

She wants him to step out of the shadows of fear, which is why she traps him. 

Drawing on the Force, she moves with an agility and ease that had been missing earlier. She’s a predator on the prowl, and she’s not leaving this planet until she’s taken whatever’s taken hold of Ben by the throat and—

“STOP!” 

Ben drops his staff, his face pitching forward in his now empty hands that’s half covered under sweaty, tangled, dark locks. What shocks Rey even more is how he crumbles. He’s a towering wall, a force of nature, and he  _ collapses _ to the ground, releasing an anguished cry as he falls. 

Rey’s heard men cry in agony before. Heard and felt sympathy for the wounded animal sentients become when faced with more pain than they can bear… None of it’s prepared her for a broken Ben. For this devastated man on his knees before her, alternating between weeping and protesting. 

“Can’t, can’t,  _ won’t _ ,” he protests as she crashes to her knees, too. “I won’t. You can’t have her. You won’t—she’s not— _ I’m _ not either—no, no, no…” 

He mutters and cries, and cries and mutters, flinching and shaking off Rey’s efforts of touch at first. But not for long. Rey’s patient and persistent. She knows to wait and try again. She’s familiar with rejection and needing to try again and again. 

She continues to reach out to Ben, to offer comforting touches, reassuring brushes, soothing fingers slipping through his hair. She gives him all of these in small measures, until Ben gives in and sinks into her touch. 

More like hauls her to him, actually. 

One second she’s speaking softly to Ben, telling him it’s all right, everything will be all right. He’s safe, she’s safe, and they’re safe, and it’s all right… The lingering cool morning breeze flutters around them, and the next all she knows is Ben. Ben’s firm lap under her bum. Ben’s strong arms surrounding her, banding around her upper back, embracing her to his chest. Ben’s cheek and nose nuzzling into her neck as she wiggles her arms free, only to wind them around his shoulders. 

Time has no meaning. There’s no need to rush away before they’re caught where they probably shouldn’t be. Ben’s not wanted by the New Republic for possible homicide. Rey’s not a runaway from the most powerful crime syndicate in the galaxy. 

There is nothing else right now, only this. Only  _ them _ .

Only Ben and Rey. 

“Bad nightmares last night,” Ben finally manages, withdrawing his face from her skin, leaving her almost bereft in its absence—but she’s not focusing on that right now. He sucks a shaky breath, eyes red-rimmed as they meet hers. “Sorry I wasn’t up to form this morning.” 

“I think I should be the one apologizing to you.” She chuckles darkly as she moves in, hugging him properly now, chest to chest, arms bound around each other. “I tried to provoke you into a fight.” 

“I know.” A heavy sigh. He seems to melt into her, but maybe that’s all in her head, because he pulls away again, but only enough to look her in the eyes. To study her face with his keen gaze as he dances his thumb over and sometimes under the neck of her shirt. “I’ve been battling against this temper most of my life, Rey. One fight isn’t going to get me to cave and spill everything.” 

“Maybe it  _ should _ .” 

“You think so?” His lips fold into a thin line and she shrugs keeping her arms around his shoulders. Their hold has relaxed, but neither of them has released the other. Rey’s not going to be the one to drop first. 

“I do,” she murmurs. “Maybe not to me and not today, but you need to talk it out with someone. Someday.” 

Ben’s head slowly bobs, and she knows he’s thinking. Can sense the Force in him change; a clarity takes form and shape within him. “I think you’re right.” 

And then Ben talks. He asks her if she heard anything at all about the scandal involving Senator Leia Organa and a holo of her father, Bail Organa. Pain lances through Rey as she nods, and Ben tells her it’s all right. That’s it’s probably best she knows the facts already. 

He relays them, still, walking her through what little information he knows from Anakin Skywalker and his padawan towards the end of the Clone Wars. He tells her his grandmother was from Naboo, and so every time he’s there, he’s managed to find time to learn more of Padmé Amidala. All surviving senate holos and remaining recordings from the Old Republic in the privacy of the still Chancellor Palpatine indicate that Anakin and Padmé were on friendly terms with each other. He suspects it was love to lead them to children, he’s never been able to find the source of what made Anakin turn—what spiraled his downfall. 

“Maybe you don’t have to know that, Ben.” She keeps her tone gentle and soothing, not wanting to admonish or lecture. He’s right and valid to want to know, but maybe he’s been told too harshly all his life to give up… Maybe he’s been taunted and misunderstood since the news of Senator Organa’s parentage broke across the galaxy. “Maybe what’s important is what you do with it.” 

“That’s what my master tried to tell me—my uncle, I guess.” He paused, gritting his teeth in consideration before he continued. “Neither of you are wrong, but that answer’s never been good enough for me. For one, because if it’s something I should have been able to hear and move on from, someone should have told me. And told me long before it came out in public scandal.”

“What the—kriff, Ben!” Rey almost jumps from his lap, but Ben’s hold tightens again. He’s not ready to lose contact with her touch yet, either, it seems.  _ Not important _ , she chides herself. “Luke Skywalker and your mother, Leia Organa, two pillars of righteous light in all the galaxy, never sat you down to tell you the family history?”

“No.” He shakes his head. 

She frowns even as her fingers toy with the ends of his hair at the back of his neck. “You found out the same day the rest of the galaxy did? You learned you were the grandson of Darth Vader the same day everyone else learned you were?!” 

If she thinks she’s incredulous now, outraged at the life-long deception—Ben had to have been an adult in his twenties when he finally learned, then—it’s nothing compared to the boiling, red rage that follows in the wake of the remainder of Ben’s confession. 

“Actually, my master and I were away on a trip at the time, so I learned after all my fellow students knew. It was… it was bad Rey. I stayed on my ship, undecided if I was going to track mom and her stupid newly formed Resistance down and yell and scream at her like she deserved or fly away then. I ended up challenging my master to a duel, but that didn’t go over well. I used the Dark Side, harnessed its power… It scares me when I remember how  _ good _ it felt.” He shivers then, as if to emphasize his point. “I’m afraid when I think of how easy it had been to give into anger and hate then. I’m afraid that’s what Snoke has been wanting from me all along.” 

“...Snoke…” The name,  _ that  _ name… It sends a chill down Rey’s spine and everything within her stops. “Snoke,” she parrots, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Even Qi’ra dared not press matters with high ranks in the First Order. Even she kept far enough away from the reaches of Snoke. “Supreme Leader of the First Order, evil dictator wanting to control the whole galaxy, all the way out to Black Spire and then the Unknown Regions behind that… That’s the voice in your head?” 

He nods and she can’t breathe. 

“All this time?” 

“Since I can remember.” He licks his lips and can’t hold her gaze anymore. His eyes drop as if in shame, and she can’t let him wilt and wither away. Not now. 

She’s afraid, too. Afraid and feeling very in-over-her-head.  _ You’re a good swimmer, though _ . It’s stupid pride. An arrogant, cockiness within her that refuses to be beaten. She doesn’t scold it, though. Doesn’t challenge this mindset that she will not be conquered. She’s broken free from Crimson Dawn, and she can help Ben break free of Snoke. 

Sucking a fortifying breath, she pats the back of his shoulder with a hand, her other hands still lightly batting at the hair at the back of his head (she doesn’t mind the sweat, not at all…). “Just so I have all the facts, Ben: You’ve battled all this hurt and fear _all this time..._ _alone_? No one else knows about the Snoke connection and voice in your mind after all this time? The burden of this darkness, all these nightmares _all_ this time. You’ve carried it all alone?” 

He doesn’t answer, not directly at least. He looks rather sheepish, like a child that’s being scolded when he says, “It’s why I couldn’t let you think you were alone when you had your nightmare.” A deflection, she knows it. But knows what he means with it: the past won’t change. The sands of Time and Fate have blown on, revealing ruins and clues to what came before. 

Nothing, none of what’s come before, good or bad, none of it can be undone. But perhaps they can keep from allowing it to be  _ redone _ .

Perhaps the choices they make today can keep repeats from coming tomorrow. 

“You’re not alone either, Ben,” she tells him, fingers threading up and curling into his hair now, as if to pull his face closer… 

...And he lets her do it. His eyes are wide and full, and he’s a man shaken in her arms. A man whose world has been stripped down to nothing, and given a means of rebuilding it.

They’re frozen as they hover. Faces separated by mere centimeters that could be so easily closed in a splinter of a second. The Force… it’s charged around them. It hums and thrums, a song that excites her blood, shooting fiery thrills through her veins—

“HALT!” 

They push and press in equal measures, yet in opposite directions. Rey suddenly drops her hold on Ben’s hair and shoves at his shoulders, mind racing to determine if her staff is close enough for her to summon it to her, and will she need to launch it in the direction of the order, or will she need it to fight off a swarm of attackers?? 

None of that matters as she crashes to the ground on her side, Ben’s arms bound tightly around her. He’s a human shield she wants to shove aside so she can fight beside him as a security droid hovering on a sort of speeder floats overhead. 

“ _ Halt! _ ” He orders again. “You’ve been caught parking illegally and will be detained. Do not resist.” 

  
“Run,” Ben hisses, loosening his hold and allowing Rey to untangle herself. 

“My thoughts exactly.” 

Rey’s on her feet, sprinting for the ramp, ignoring the angered beeps of the droid. Ben’s right behind her, then at her side, yelling, “Time’s up, Geegee!” 

“Yes, sir, Master Solo. Will we be attempting to escape through cloud cover, sir?” 

Rey laughs, the sound echoing off the walls of the  _ Steadfast _ as she and Ben charge to the cockpit. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peace and love to you all and I deeply hope you enjoy this chapter💙✨   
> Thank you for reading and sharing all your lovely thoughts. I’m just over the moon with your kindness.   
> So much love to madi_solo, QuinTalon, and Frumpologist for all their love and hard work with this story.

* * *

Ben’s decided there’s a lot more luck out there then Master Sky—Unc— _ Luke _ —whatever. Whomever. Then  _ Luke  _ used to say there was. 

In the end, Luke was just a man, no legend. And his name was Luke. Luke always teased Dad about luck, but Ben’s pretty sure he has more than his fair share of it, given all he’s done and continues to do without being caught. Even more luck is doled out whenever Dad  _ is _ caught and he comes out of the scrape alive.

Ben feels he’s been given more than his fair share today. 

Is it good luck or bad luck that he manages to hold back, refusing his anger in sparring with Rey? He decides it’s good that he doesn’t give in. It’s even better luck that the thick cloud cover remains and they’re able to evade security ships and jump to hyperspace with an actual place to go. It’s still good luck for them that Geegee received word of another medical supply run for the Command Station and accepted their next job—it’s lucky that Ben has details of important  _ things _ to focus on. 

Things like  _ not  _ kissing or being kissed by Rey. 

If that’s what was going to happen earlier. He’s not sure. He’s never been in the position of almost being kissed. Her lips brushing over and lingering on his cheek had been more than sufficient to send him into a sea of fantasy, memory, and conflict. He doesn’t know if it’s good or bad luck that kissing  _ didn’t  _ happen. 

It’s good that he has Rey, though. It’s very good. They way she listened and he felt  _ heard _ . Understood even. He doesn’t think of his grandmother Padmé too much, but maybe it’s time he resumed seeking out more answers involving her. Her voting records and allies shouldn’t be too hard to dig up in the archives of the New Republic—slipping in, though. That would be the issue. Or maybe he could find records and documents of Bail and Breha; Chandrila would have something, surely. Maybe even Mon Mothma’s estate…

Ben comes back to himself as Rey announces she’s going to fix them something to eat, and brew a proper pot of tea. She also declares that Ben’s earned the right to share the last cupcake with her, and fixes Ben with a  _ look  _ as she does. It’s a look brimming with mirth and kindness, while guarding something serious. A shared secret for only them. Not that Geegee would understand covert, unspoken messages are ever being passed. 

Geegee does, however, inquire if he’s deserved anything special, and it’s a sign that he hasn’t messed anything up with Rey in kissing or not kissing because she actually permits herself to smile back at the droid, answering he’s getting an oil bath at the Command Station if they’ll allow it. 

“Oh,  _ thank you _ , Mistress Rey—I like her, Master Solo. Regular oil baths. She knows the importance of upkeep and routine maintenance.” 

Ben scowls at his droid. “You’ve hardly been neglected under my care, Geegee.” 

“No, sir. Not at all. It’s only that just as you forgo most material possession above base level and standard to survive, you also forget the majority of the galaxy is not that way, unless out of necessity.” 

He thinks he’s just been insulted, and can’t think of an immediate retort. He’s left to blink in dumbfounded silence for several moments, before managing to ask, “Is there a point you’re coming to?” 

“Yes, Master Solo.” Geegee swivels his chair, facing Ben with his entire body and Ben knows this is serious. His droid means to be taken very seriously right now. “I require more regular oil baths if you wish me to maintain peak performance at all times.” 

Speechless. Flabbergasted. Stunned. Ben’s all these things as he agrees to this. Geegee thanks him, and while Ben considers the matter handled and done with, the droid continues muttering about how sentients maintain hygiene rituals—most beings going so far as to shower daily, and he would think it’s  _ obvious _ that a droid would need near that amount of attention…

Ben swallows back any quips, mind wandering again as the scents of food waft into the cockpit. Some form of soup he thinks, and…  _ bread _ . Kriff, that’s some of that fresh good bread that makes his mouth water and there’s never enough of… 

The lucky streak continues as he reaches out into the Force, checking and refortifying his mental shields. They’re well intact with nothing fighting against them for now. He knows it’s not forever, but this temporary peace is enough. He has Rey, Geegee, and the  _ Steadfast _ . They’re on their way to a paying job. His luck hasn’t run out yet.

* * *

His luck runs out approximately six-and-three-quarter hours later. 

“Thank you, but no.” 

“Yes, we’d  _ love _ to come!”

Ben and Rey snap their faces to each other, staring with jaws clamped tightly shut, trying their hands at that silent communication that worked so well on the ship. It’s still working now: Ben’s well aware Rey meant to accept, and from the narrowing of Rey’s brow, Ben knows that she understands he meant to decline as well. 

“It’s very kind of you to invite us,” Rey says to the doctor in a long white lab coat standing in front of them, her gaze fixed on Ben all the while. “And we would be  _ honored _ to accept.” 

“But unfortunately, we  _ can’t _ .” Ben’s never talked through his teeth before. It had been one of those mysteries of childhood how Mom could manage to hiss at him that he was in trouble though a large, toothy grin. It’s no mystery any longer. 

Rey’s not letting this go. “Yes, we  _ can _ .” 

“Whyyyyy don’t I… give you two a moment of privacy…? I think I’m being summoned to assist with… something over  _ there _ —Talia! I’ll be right there!” The doctor, a nervous guy now that Ben thinks on it, excuses himself to the fake incident as Ben continues to look into Rey’s eyes. 

Directly into them. So deeply into them, he thinks he’s getting lost in swirls of green and brown, and flashes of gold—

“We’re coming back for this party.” 

Ah, down to business. Good, good. He doesn’t need to get lost in her eyes anyways. That would be more luck pushing… 

“Absolutely not.” They’re already at close proximity, but he takes a step closer, drawing a sharp breath.  _ To maintain the private integrity of the conversation _ , he tells himself. But seeing Rey’s throat bob and her eyes widen just so… feeling his own heart stutter in response… he’s not sure he believes himself. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Rey.” He’s not sure what he means to be the bad idea anymore, though. Not when Rey’s  _ this _ close again; similar to when she was perched in his lap… 

“Of course it’s not a good idea.” She lifts her chin to him, smiling at him in that crooked way that he didn’t remember making his stomach flop  _ before _ … “It’s a  _ great _ idea. I’m new to your crew, but they like both of us together enough to invite us to mingle. This is excellent.” 

Empty. His mind is empty and none of what she says computes or connects in his mind. Maybe he should ask for a full check-up while they’re here. “That doesn’t make sense.” 

“Did you… never mingle?” She cants her head now, the stubborn lines across her face fading into smooth yet serious curiosity. “Did you ever have to attend functions as a child?” 

“While I was young and cute enough to elicit smiles, sure.” Ben shrugs, keeping his voice low, raking a hand through his hair. “Who doesn’t love a chubby baby? Or a toddler with starship toys? But that phase doesn’t last long, and a droid would always be assigned to make sure I was in bed at a certain hour if Mom and Dad attended something late.” 

“And you didn’t…?” Rey licks her lips, moving impossibly closer. “Not even with… while you were representing the  _ Order _ ?” 

“Not even then.” Ben supplies, shaking his head. He has no idea who would even want to watch this exchange, but he’s thankful Rey’s keeping her gesticulating and expressions to a minimum. Hell, he’s thankful  _ he’s _ able to, too! “Part of why it’s a bad idea to accept.” 

“On the contrary, it makes it even better now—hear me out. Please.” 

He doesn’t want to, he  _ really _ doesn’t want to. He nods, though, and Rey smiles, clearing her throat before she launches into her explanation. 

“Chances are no one will recognize you, and it’s highly likely no one will recognize  _ me _ . If I am recognized, it’s good to know now instead of being caught off guard at a later time. But more than that, this is how you rise up and make more. We could make those modifications to the hyperdrive you’ve been talking about and update the galley. The common area could even be modified to accommodate more training space.” 

“The ship’s fine like she is!” He’s almost insulted now. 

“I  _ know _ , sorry.” Rey touches a hand to his arm, squeezing lightly, and that somehow begins to ease the sting of remarks made against the  _ Steadfast _ . “She’s a wonderful ship, don’t misunderstand anything here—my point is, this is how you move up. You make allies of the higher ups. The ones in charge.” 

“They’re all doctors who work for a non-profit. That’s respectable enough on its own, why should there be a pecking order?” 

“Because there has to be. There’s a chain of command of sorts. It’s no accident we always see younger doctors, probably the newer ones, or trainee volunteers.” She twists her face in the direction of the  _ Steadfast _ , but Ben sees her eyes roam the hangar. “Just… look. It's all droids and younger ones in here. No one too important. Not a gray hair in sight.” 

He smirks now because he’s got her. “Calamari don’t have hair.” 

A giggle bubbles past her lips then, and it’s almost enough to have him agreeing… Who is he kidding? He’s going along with this. He’s already resigned himself to following wherever Rey wants to go next because he could never honestly think of anything he’d rather do. 

“He’s still one of the young ones, and that’s fine.” She faces him again, dropping her arm and lacing her fingers together over her pants. “The ones in charge, the ones funding all of this—they’ll be in attendance at this soiree, and that’s where we need to be.” 

“Why?” It comes out more husky than he intended. More gravely and seemingly inquiring after something more than… he doesn’t know. His head dips lower to hers and he just knows it’s…  _ more _ . “Why, Rey?” 

She clears her throat once. Blinks twice. “Would you believe me if I said to leave it at job security? With the possibility of upgrades?” 

“Not in the slightest.” He gives a chuckle, and it’s something deep and low from the back of his throat. Things seem to be functioning of their own accord, and Ben’s forced to consider again if this is good luck or bad luck… “But maybe I’ll let you leave it at that for now.” 

“Good.” Her breath is warm, puffing against his chin. “Because it’s, I think eighty-five percent that, with ten percent of it that I really like a party.” 

“You do, huh?” Smooth, Solo.  _ Real  _ smooth. 

Rey merely hums in ascent, beaming at him now. “The shoes, Kylo—the  _ shoes _ . The dresses and  _ shoes _ .”

“What will I wear then?” 

“Check your closet—oh! Or let me, rather!” She floats both hands out, curling her fingers to his shoulders now, and Ben concerned his heart may stop. Any moment now he’ll drop dead over Rey’s touch. Rey being so close he can’t breath… but can still somehow drown in the scent of her… She’s still talking, though, and that’s something to focus on at least. “I’ve made some purchases for you and I really think they’ll do nicely for you! It’ll be good to show them off.” 

A sigh that’s more a chortle and a weak shake of his head as a last ditch effort of debate. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” He brings his arms to her waist now, banding them around her petite form and gathering her to his chest so that he can whisper into her ear. “We shouldn’t draw too much attention to ourselves.”

“We… won’t…” She winds her arms around him, and it’s probably his imagination, but it at least  _ feels  _ as though she’s melting into him. “We’ll be introduced as delivery guys and no one will remember us directly. Only our faces when something of more value needs to be delivered.” 

“You’re sure?” he mumbles in her hair, suppressing the urge to kriffing nuzzle.  _ Nuzzle! _

“I think so.” Rey shrugs in his arms and tightens her embrace. “Always expect the unexpected at these things, but we go, we shake hands, smile and make a good impression. We enjoy delicious food for free and then we leave.” 

“Fine.” He releases her as he concedes. “Sounds like a plan, at least.” 

“Good.” She steps two steps back to the ship. “I’ll check on the cargo and Geegee. And promise him he’ll get that oil bath when we return later.” 

Ben ticks his head in the direction of the doctor that had extended the invitation and promptly fled. “I’ll let him know to expect us.” She nods and is about to turn around completely when he remembers… “Rey!” He’s directly in front of her within a couple of strides, eyes searching hers. “What’s the other five percent?” 

“Questions.” She smiles, making an airy gesture about the hangar that tells him she’s putting on an act right now. She’s trying to appear happy and friendly. Someone people want to invite to functions… “Questions that have yet to be answered.” 

“Okay.” He’ll accept that answer. He’ll even accept that perhaps the last bit, the embrace, was all for show and appearances… Ben can’t be sure of anything beyond the tingle of his senses in the wake of holding Rey, and whispering in her ear… 

He’s counting  _ that _ as luck for good at least. 

* * *

There’s no way Rey’s going to allow herself to be mistaken as “delivery personnel” tonight. No chance at all. Not when she’s able to finally show off this navy-colored thing of beauty hanging in her closet. It’s a silken single shoulder with a long slit up her thigh, in addition to a very tastefully placed gap in material at the hip underneath the single shoulder. In other words, it’s a gorgeous piece of armor and Rey’s looking forward to seeing what results it gets. Not to mention, in the process of calculating in her head, along with asking Geegee some discreet questions, she’s come to the conclusion that  _ today _ is her birthday—at least the one Qi’ra always celebrated for her. Why not celebrate it with a beautiful dress and some shoes? 

Ben’s grumbling indistinctly in the galley, while Rey sips at her tea from the table. “You can’t back out, so don’t even think of it,” she tells him. “And we can’t leave because of that rockface we clipped, and the doctors were kind enough to offer their mechanical droids to fix us up while we’re at the party this evening.” 

“They’ll get it all wrong,” Ben snaps, doing whatever it is he’s doing in there very loudly. Personally, Rey thinks he’s opening and closing every last cabinet door and fidgeting with all the cookware and accessories they leave sitting out, but she’s not gotten up to confirm it. Nor does she plan on doing that. 

It’s  _ his _ business if he wants to sulk; Rey’s enjoying a brilliant cup of tea in the delightful time between a successful delivery run and a hot shower in the ‘fresher. 

“They will not,” she counters, smiling into her cup as she readies for a sip. “Their programming is in ship repairs, and it’s nothing more than some scratches, dings and a few parts come loose.” 

“It’s more than that!” Ben doesn’t show himself, but he’s incredulous, and Rey imagines he’s thrown his hands in the air. “This  _ Steadfast _ is a rare model to begin with, and I clipped her right near where I last made modifications near the thrusters and they  _ better  _ know damn well what they’re doing!” 

_ Silly boy _ . Rey’s grinning still as she finishes off her tea. “They do and they will,” she hums as she leaves him to his pouting to ready herself. It’s been too long since she’s been all dressed up, she’s not about to let Ben’s attitude spoil it. “Don’t forget, Geegee’s getting an oil bath, too. They’ll deliver him back to the ship before we need to leave.” 

“And that’s another thing! I’m checking him for viruses, trackers, and tracers before we leave, too! Can’t believe they wouldn’t let me oversee that myself.” 

Rey agrees, but sees no point in adding fuel to a roiling flame. Not when she’s still not decided how she’ll do her hair. 

* * *

In the end, it doesn’t take her long to decide to leave her hair mostly down. She’s washed and dried, and styles her hair so it curls gently. She allows it to lay on its natural part and clips back a portion of it, leaving the rest be. Anything more will detract from the dress, and Rey  _ really _ likes this dress. It fits perfectly along all her curves and non-curves (she’s well aware that she’s hardly the most voluptuous being around, thank you very much), and she loves how midnight navy blue ages her by several years.

Her heels are over ten centimeters, and were a  _ steal _ for the price she haggled the shopkeeper for. 

Applying lipstick and giving herself one final look, she’s more than pleased with the results of her efforts. She’s also curious of the overall effect this outfit will have on Ben, in light of… recent happenings. There’s been the tea and cupcakes, kissing his cheek, held in his arms on his lap, that almost kiss (it had been that, right?! She still doesn’t know…) and then the covert conversation that led to lots of…  _ leaning _ . Leaning and hovering and holding… 

Yes, she’s very curious and it’s a struggle to not indulge in fantasies as she punches keys in her code to leave the room. The door hisses open and she turns around, wondering last minute if she should carry a clutch of sorts—

“Rey…” 

It’s Ben. Ben sounding as though he swallowed his own tongue. Ben looking as dumbfounded as that strangled sort of noise he just made…

Ben all clean and dressed up in the matching black pants and jacket she’d selected for him. He opted for the white shirt over ones in varying shades of gray she’d picked out for him to select from, too, but that’s all right. More than all right actually. He’s wearing the silver cufflinks she’s purchased for him, too, and his hair…  _ Kriff _ . It’s all thick and wavy and it looks like he spent as much time styling it as she had. Her fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and run her fingers through several locks to see if it’s as soft as it looks. 

_ You know it is _ , she reminds herself. She’s touched Ben’s hair before—and never mind he’d been sweaty and they’d been sparing before. He hadn’t been going at it hardly at all… so Rey _ knows _ just how it feels curled around her fingers.

Suddenly, she’s back at that bar. She’s standing on her own two feet at the open doorway of her room, Ben gaping at her, but she’s also light years away. All dressed to impress again, and feeling that thrill of triumph as she assesses pleasing results from her target’s expression. She knows there’s a natural flow to these things, and Qi’ra even had the choice for her first time, but Rey’s fine. She doesn’t need to go that far tonight. He looks the type who believes himself as invincible as he is handsome. The sort who wouldn’t suspect to a simple poison by a prospective lover to be what does him in—

“—Rey?”

She draws a sharp breath and she’s back. She’s back on the  _ Steadfast  _ and it’s Ben who’s standing right in front of her—like, right in front of her, actually. She doesn’t remember him moving, nor does she recall stepping beyond her own threshold… 

She hasn’t. She’s frozen in her doorway and it’s Ben who’s come to her. Ben gazes down at her with concern, lines etching across his face as he searches her face, her eyes. 

“Are you all right?” 

“Yeah,” she manages, though she’s not certain  _ how _ at the moment. “Just… some memories, that’s all.” His face bunches up so that he looks impossibly  _ more _ concerned than before, and Rey has no choice but to give a placating pat to his arm while almost depreciating the art that is her dress. “Unpleasant memories of the last time I was  _ this _ dressed up is all.” 

“Oh?  _ Ohhh _ .” It takes him a few seconds to catch up, but when he does, he curls his fingers around her bare shoulder, dipping his face down closer to hers. “We don’t have to do anything if you’ve changed your mind. We can have tea and I’ll see if Geegee can bring us some leftover desserts once they deliver him from his oil bath.” 

“No!” Her reaction is so strong she floats a hand to his cheek, cupping it in reassurance that he’s done nothing wrong. “You’re very kind and thoughtful, Ben. But Geegee won’t be back for hours and he won’t know from sight and smell what’s going to be the best of the best on the dessert table.”

He squeezes her shoulder gently, dark eyes gazing into hers. “You’re sure?” 

“Positive.” She traces her thumb over his cheekbone several times before their arms fall away… She wonders if Ben feels as empty and bereft of touch as she… And thinks maybe he does as he offers his arm out to her. 

She takes his arm, fitting her hand delicately under and within the bend in Ben’s elbow and he leads her off the ship. He strains to watch what the droids are doing as they walk away, and Rey can’t help but note how very different it is to walk  _ with _ a very much alive someone, as opposed to supporting most of the weight of a dying someone. 

* * *

It’s not entirely what she expected, but then again, she’s only been exposed to a few types of parties. This one is a far cry from the glamour she’s used to, but there’s still money invested here. She smiles lots and proffers her free hand out as she meets several doctors, keeping her left hand tucked into the crook of Ben’s right arm. 

It seems this party is an attempt to entice donors. Tables have been set up for all manner of wheel spinning, dice rolling, and card playing gambling options. Droids mill about the room with drink trays and the food is… it’s disappointing if Rey’s honest. She would have expected doctors to know a full stomach allows for a base level satisfaction, meaning sentients are in a positive mood when asking for credits and favors. 

Although, judging by the abundance of alcohol, it’s possible the Command Station higher ups are trying to recreate similar effects by getting their special guests drunk. 

From what she’s observed tonight and before, that works, too. It doesn’t appear anywhere near as satisfying to her, though. 

“Drink for the lady?” A human male draped in fine robes of deep green with gold leaf trim appears from nowhere, holding out a flute of a very expensive looking pink champagne. 

“Thank you,” she accepts with no intention of having more than a few sips. 

She prefers a clear mind at all times, and one night of drinking and talking and with Qi’ra while trying out beauty scrubs and cream samples was more than enough to show Rey precisely how too much messes with her mind. Her upper left thigh still bears the scar from a surprise attack from one of Qi’ra’s droids. It had been a terrifying lesson to learn at the time, and maybe there had been another way Qi’ra could have gone about teaching it, but the results were as hoped. Rey can never look at alcohol the same after that literal near-death experience, and it’s not a mindset she’s certain she’s ready to break free of here and now. 

(However, perhaps  _ alone with Ben _ . On a certain ship. With a certain droid powered down for the night. It’s possible she could be persuaded then. And would even be curious to see the results of an evening of  _ that _ …)

_ (Wait. Does Ben even drink?) _

She has her answer when he declines the offer, quick to insist his drink of choice is Corellian whiskey when the male is eyeing Ben suspiciously. 

“Ah,” the male says approvingly. “I’m afraid for something that strong you’ll have to visit the bar.” 

“Naturally.” Ben’s smile is smooth, even as the rest of him tenses against Rey. “My partner requires a bit more sustenance before we make it that way.” 

“Of course, of course.” He makes an airy gesture over the fancy buffet tables— _ buffet tables _ , of all the insulting—When wooing for funding, feed them well along with their drink,  _ kriff _ , even Rey knows this. The male she’s already presumed to be a doctor of sorts is smiling and already on the move, now at Ben’s side, and clapping him on the shoulder. “We’re indebted to you and your ship, Kylo.” 

Ben’s taken aback, Rey feels his shock in the Force, like a sudden wave crashing into her, but Ben does little more than blink and cant his head. “You know my name, sir?” 

“Again, of course.” The male’s teeth gleam white as he grins broadly. Like he’s in on a secret and they’re not. Rey tightens her hold on Ben, pressinger herself more flush against him without realizing what she’s done until after she’s done it. The toothy smile looks to Rey now, and she shivers even closer to Ben. “And the new member to your crew, Rey, isn’t it?” 

“That’s right. Though I’m hardly new to Kylo anymore.” She bends her lips in one of her most charming smiles. “When you’ve been partners as long as we have, and with a man like Kylo… Time loses all significance.” 

“I’m sure.” The man continues to smile and doesn’t introduce himself as he bids them to fill their plates (with  _ what?? _ ) and enjoy their evening. 

Rey wants to find out more about him, but Ben leads them to the food tables, and Rey’s fairly confident the male is watching them still. She can find out later, she supposes. 

“This is what it’s like I guess,” Ben murmurs, handing her a plate. 

“What?” 

“Mom. All her parties and fancy meetings.” He shrugs his shoulders as if to say this doesn’t mean much, but she knows it does. Knows  _ him _ well enough to know this means something to him. To his past. “All those late nights she never made it home before I fell asleep like she promised she’d try to do,  _ this _ was what she was doing.” 

The hurt rolls over her, too. Ben’s hurt. It ripples all around, so small, yet impossible to miss. And then it grows. She can’t let the evening go this route. Can’t let him be dragged down and held captive by memories, haunts, and hurts. There’s only here and now, and no one’s paying them much attention anyways. 

“That was a shitty thing for your family to do.” He’s making a face at her in question, blinking slowly, and she realizes she’ll have to be more specific—there could be any number of shitty things his family has done to him she supposes. “Not telling you about your grandfather,” she clarifies, tilting her chin and leaning closer. “It doesn’t change anything and I’ve nothing to do with it, but I think you should have been told before it all blew up. I wish you had been.”

  
“Thank you.” 

They stand there, exchanging blinks and unspoken messages while not reaching for any of the food. Rey’s almost able to look directly into his eyes with the added height of her heels—okay, that’s a stretch, but it’s different. Being this close to him, and looking right into him… it’s  _ different _ . She’s not sure if it’s good or bad, just that she doesn’t need anything this champagne glass she’s still holding has to offer; her head’s spinning enough already. 

Ben breaks the silence as he reaches for a plate, too. “I actually think Dad wanted to.” His throat bobs and he licks his lips, and Rey’s torn between following the lump down the length of his neck or getting lost in the pinkish-red of his tongue… Her throat is very dry and she wishes she were still holding on to Ben (when had she let go?) as he adds, “He and mom fought a lot before I was sent away. To be fair, I think most of what they did was fight, because that’s just who they are, but these were different. And I’m… I think I remember he felt conflicted before…  _ before _ . He wasn’t  _ decided _ when saying goodbye to me.” 

“Maybe he wanted different for you.” Rey doesn’t know, but it’s a bit of comfort she can offer him. 

“Maybe so,” Ben agrees, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

That almost smile prompts Rey for telling Ben her theory of her guardian and his father being previously acquainted. Ben snorts at that, muttering he wouldn’t be surprised. She muses aloud they could have been each other’s young love, and Ben… She’s not sure what to make of his response. He grunts and goes all stiff and after that. Like a creature that’s come in contact with its natural predator. 

He doesn’t accept the offer of a shot of Corellian whiskey, and Rey’s forced to consider the party a  _ dud _ by all standards. Except for the comforting Ben. She’s happy to have had the chance to tell him that. And his fidgety and aloof manner doesn’t deter the flutters and flips inside her. 

She’s actually feeling a little bold when she suggests they make back for the ship early and he agrees. The food was an utter disappointment, and Rey fleetingly misses the chefs aboard Qi’ra’s yacht. She slips her hand back through Ben’s arm and he stuffs his free hand in his pocket. 

“You look good tonight,” she says, eyeing him with a feminine smile. “Really good if I’m being honest.” 

“You picked out the suit,” he mumbles— _ mumbles! _ “And the shoes, too, and that can’t have been easy. It’s hard finding my size, so thank you for them.” 

“No trouble at all.” She’s growing more confused by the second, but decides to keep going. “We should find more reasons to dress up more often, that way you can get more wear out of everything.” 

“Sure, Rey.” 

_ Uh oh _ . Something’s off, but she doesn’t know what. She’s stumped with how to proceed from here, but is saved from trying as Ben sputters and swears, and growls at the  _ Steadfast _ . 

"Look at this! Would you just—what have they done?"

Frankly, Rey doesn’t think it’s all that bad, but knows that will never suffice for Ben, so she feigns deep dismay, keeping close. Basking in his warmth as she says, “I stand corrected. A droid will never get it as perfect as  _ you _ would.” 

“It’s not that.” His lips are pursed and brow is furrowed into hard lines as he whips his head to Rey. “But you’d think they were programmed by a bunch of brainless moof-milkers!  _ This _ isn't supposed to be attached  _ there _ —and that goes— _ kriff _ !” He ceases his exaggerated pointing, trading it for frustrating drags of his hands through his hair and down his face. 

They’re very nice hands, Rey thinks. Mesmerizingly  _ large _ . Strong, too. And she knows good and well where all the calluses are. She can still try to salvage what she’d begun. 

She makes her voice sweet and soft, going for the effect of silken honey as she flutters her eyelashes. "With those hands of yours, so deft and clever, I'm sure you can make quick work of the repairs in  _ no  _ time at all.”

Ben growls, or maybe it’s a grunt—he's not truly listening to a single word she just said. He’s lost to his ship now. To a world of wires, cogs, mechanisms and…  _ ugh _ ! Not one to give up until defeat slaps her in the face, Rey tries again… 

" _ Oooorrrrrr _ ...Perhaps you prefer to take your time.” She pauses, allowing her eyes to linger on his hands then dart to his face. “You’re the type who likes to see a job done right the first time and be as thorough as possible...” 

"Damn right." Ben snorts, removing his jacket laying it over a metal crate nearby. He removes the silver cufflinks, one at a time, making sloppy work of rolling his sleeves up his forearms."Wonder if Geegee is back from his—will you check—no. Wait." He stops that fidgeting and head shaking. He ceases his rambling and looks at her. Really looks at her for a moment and Rey can't gather anything else. For the first time, he’s unreadable. The fathoms of his dark eyes reveal nothing as he asks, “Were you... have you anything…? Were you saying something?"

_ Never mind,  _ she tells herself. She's too... And he's  _ so _ ... And maybe she was never  _ that  _ good at it all to begin with.

“Nothing of significance,” she answers, slipping off her shoes, swallowing the lump of disappointment that’s wedged itself in her throat. “I think Geegee’s still getting his bath, so I'll grab the tools and be back to help you in just a minute.” 

He thanks her, holding her look for what she considers longer than one would just a friend… But she reminds the flutterings in her chest that she’s not even sure if tonight was the result of going so long without feeling especially pretty and missing compliments. Or if all this Force training, connection, and laying their hearts bare is creating an intimacy that looks deeper than it truly is. 

She grabs something to collect her hair in a messy bun before returning to Ben with the tool kit. Whatever she’s tried tonight hasn’t worked, and that’s probably for the best, since she really hadn’t a plan for how she’d hoped it’d end. 

And Rey prefer plans whenever possible. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you. All of you <3 thank you for reading this story and all your kind words.  
> Thank you to QuinTalon, Frumpologist, and madi_solo. You're all so dear to my heart! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: brief mention of Rey's past as a slave, and a situation of slavery in this chapter.

* * *

Ben’s groggy and restless as he wakes the next morning. It reminds him of the one night he allowed himself to let go and get drunk in the quiet of the ship with his old crew. The alcohol had loosened their tongues and they’d all been caught up in laughs and stories. Ben, on the other hand, had only become more surly and sullen with every passing tumbler, keeping his stories close to himself, growling and switching off Geegee and the droid had tried to interject with details of their former lives. He didn’t remember falling asleep then, and certainly didn’t remember locking himself in the ‘fresher, claiming it for himself so he could retch his guts out in peace. 

The crew had been angry with him for days for forcing them to find various receptacles about the ship to hurl… And Ben had been the one tasked to clean up sick as some cruel idea of revenge. (Loophole! No one said he couldn’t hire a cleaning droid to do it for him!)

Ben feels that way again now, minus the splitting headache, deep aversion to light, and roiling stomach—okay. It’s not quite the same this morning. The previous night’s events and conversations are as in a fog, though. He strains to recall the sequence and flow to lead him to this… 

And suddenly it hits him. 

Crashes into him, more like it. 

Because there’s a bit of Snoke in his memory. Snoke overhearing a little bit of what Rey said last night about his family—not just overhearing, though. He’d taunted and chuckled that of course Ben wouldn’t want to come find him  _ now _ . “ _ It’s obvious you have compassion for this young criminal. Perhaps I was wrong about you, after all. Too much of your father’s spirit in you, I think. And always a waste of my time.”  _ Ben didn’t have to double down on his shields after that; Snoke had slammed all doors shut himself before leaving. Ben doesn’t want to celebrate that victory too much, though. He has a feeling it won’t last long. 

Most of all though, there’s Rey. There’s Rey in that  _ dress _ , one that’s even more exquisite than the one from the first day on Naboo, and of course it would be. She’s not exhausted from hours of trudging through a jungle after crashing in an escape pod. She was  _ far _ from anything tired and dirty last night. 

Clean, coifed, and… and… beautiful. She’s so. damn. beautiful. 

He groans aloud in the privacy of his quarters, dragging a hand down his face as he thinks of how beautiful she is—always is, and not just while all dressed up last night. But that  _ dress _ … With the slit that travelled up, up,  _ up _ … In theory, he knows humanoid women have thighs. It’s only logical, and it’s not like he hasn’t seen a beautiful pair of legs before.  _ These aren’t just any legs _ , his traitorous mind tells him. Toned, powerful, smooth, and… no end in sight. Not until her bare shoulder, at least. Oh, and then there’s that patch of skin at her waist the dress conveniently left off.    
  
Ben wanted to touch every expanse of exposed skin last night. Still does this morning if the painful bulge in his sleep pants is anything to go by… Actually, he peaks down and, yeah… He’s rock hard and full on tenting. So, there’s that, and nothing more to do about it but remember how his fingers had tingled with the urge to curl around the exposed curve of her waist. Trace along her collarbone while he nuzzled against the juncture of bare shoulder and neck and breathed her in. 

Would she have let him kiss right there? Would she have sunk back into his chest, and allowed his hold on her to tighten? Would she have permitted him to follow the ancient rhythm of nature and grind himself against her backside… because that’s what he’d wanted to do. 

It’s what he still wants to do. 

Some part of him believes she would have. Screams at him that Rey crossed beyond ‘friends’ with the kiss to his cheek, and confirmed there was something… Something that says he’s… and that maybe she—because she’s doesn’t just  _ share _ food with anyone (who else has he seen her share food with, though?!) Ugh… there’s something  _ more _ between them, he tells himself. He felt it when he held her on Hosnian Prime. She’s so…  _ Rey _ and wonderful and… she makes him laugh and know himself better and...  _ home _ . She’s very quickly become almost everything in the universe to him, and he… he doesn’t want to think of how it would be for her to ever leave. 

Nor does he want to think of ruining this partnership over feelings that he’s not sure are reciprocated.

_ “With those hands of yours, so deft and clever, I'm sure you can make quick work of the repairs in no time at all.” _

It’s Rey’s voice that haunts his mind now, this from last night. Was she…? Had she been…? Flirting, right? He’s heard enough jokes over the decades to at least feel confident he knows innuendo when he hears it. His manhood twitches in memory of Rey’s continued complimenting of his hands or skills or whatever last night. 

Kriff. That really happened. 

She’d been flirting with him. Beautiful and flirting, and he’d… 

All but ignored it. 

He scoffs at himself, grabbing his second pillow and smashing it over his face. Well done, Solo. Sure, the droids had done a  _ horrible  _ job fixing the  _ Steadfast _ ; any child would have seen that and been able to do better, but that hadn’t been it. Not at all.

It’s…  _ Rey _ . Protegee of the leader of Crimson Dawn. Rey who always knows how to dress and is never unsure of anything. Rey, who was sent to seduce and kill in order to earn a prestigious rank at Qi’ra’s side. 

She’s young, but he imagines there’s been lots of guys already. 

Guys who know what to do with their hands, and how to place them just so along a woman’s body. How to caress and worship revealed curves and tease to see more. Or maybe they beg…? Maybe Rey’s the type who wants to hear a choked “please” before rewarding efforts with a gentle touch… Maybe she doesn’t like gentle, though. Maybe she loves it hard and fast, and Ben… inexperienced Ben (and that’s  _ not _ being modest, facts are facts) would definitely be able to guarantee it’d be fast. Fast and fumbling and clumsy. So clumsy. 

What’s he supposed to do with his massive hands and legs when… kriff, during  _ any _ of it? In kissing  _ alone _ there are many issues to be addressed. Legs: does he bend down or crowd her against something and step between her legs? Hands and arms: do they go up her waist slowly, until his hands sink into her hair or is he allowed to linger at the breasts? Is he allowed to cup and feel and worship them then and there or does it take a while working up to that?  _ Ooooorrrrrr _ … is he supposed to drift them lower and cup her bum? Maybe even pick her up and hold her as he presses her against something sturdy and kisses her until the stars blur and he can’t breathe? Not to mention, lips and tongue. He doesn’t think it’s anything desirable for his tongue to just shove into her mouth and explore… To want to taste her to the fullest… Something tells him she’d choke if he just went at it… 

“Not that any of it matters now,” he growls aloud, throwing off his blanket, sitting up, and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The floor’s cold under his feet and that… no. For a moment he considered that helped somewhat with the very  _ pronounced  _ issue in his pants, but it doesn’t. 

He strips down and stalks to the ‘fresher for a long, cold shower, which decidedly helps, but he’s shivering when he leaves. And he still hasn’t worked out how to… act this morning. How to  _ be _ in Rey’s presence again. Because what if she really had been flirting and hinting interest in something more last night, and he just… ignored her? What if she begrudged his rejection and now it was just… off now? What if he’s ruined it forever? 

“Dramatic much, Solo?” Yes, he’s fully aware of the insanity of talking to himself as he pulls a black, long sleeve shirt over his damp head. “She helped you fix the ship. Got down on her hands and knees in that dress and instead of being taken for a wild night and shown a good time, she spent half an hour with you undoing most of what the droids were supposed to fix, and helped set it all to rights.” 

That… computes. It honestly does. The logic is there and sound. Pulling up his day pants and tugging his boots on over his socks, Ben can conceive a universe in which Rey doesn’t loathe him and his inexperienced self. He thinks of their parting last night, how soft her voice had been and how she’d looked him in the eye and told him she’d had a good night. He cards his hands through his hair in front of his mirror and  _ believes _ that no matter what, he and Rey are connected in the Force, and he’ll never know what the aftermath looks like until he faces her…

None of this morning makes sense, and Ben’s still feeling like he’s hungover as he makes his way to the galley, following the echoing voices of Rey and Geegee. 

“Master Solo!” Geegee bursts, moving his robotic legs and arms out to the open, indicating up and down the length of himself. “Kindly observe the shine of my outer casing, and please note…” The droid began to walk about in a circle like he’s a contestant in a competition or pageant of sorts and Ben’s… Ben has no idea what he’s looking at—or is he supposed to be listening? His eyes slide to Rey at the table, but all she does is smile and sip her tea. Geegee stops moving, looking back to Ben asking proudly, “Well? What do you think?” 

“I… Speechless. Yes. I don’t really know what to say, Geegee.” 

“Excellent!” Geegee moves his arms as if to clap his hands together and moves into the kitchen. “Now that my joints are no longer squeaky and there’s not anymore of that irritating grime, dust, and crusty sludge, I presume you’ll be more mindful of a more regular maintenance schedule from now on, Master Solo.” 

Rey chortles into her cup and Ben’s… yeah. Ben’s catching up still. His droid makes such a fuss every time he has an oil bath, so this is nothing new. He falls back into the bench and dares to look at Rey. Really look at her. Take in the smooth lines of her face, the color of her eyes, the curl that remains in her hair from the night before, even though she’s gathered half of it back in a braided crown that rests atop her head…

( _ Wonder what it would look like if he took it down? What would happen if he slid across the bench and removed the pins one by one and her brown tresses tumbled down and fanned around her shoulders? Would her breath catch as she held his gaze? Would her eyes flutter closed just before he steeled his nerves and crashed his lips to hers??)  _

“Ben…” 

He blinks rapidly several times, shaking himself from his fantasy. One he hadn’t realized he’d gotten lost in until suddenly he sees Rey’s already slid closer on the bench and there’s little space between them. Normal. Completely normal. She’s looking down at her cup and telling him to help himself, but only if he at least adds cream to it, like a civilized sentient. 

“Caf,” he answers, pressing his hands to the table—

The blaring grinding of beans interrupts him and Geegee yells out over the noise, “RIGHT AWAY, MASTER SOLO! I THINK I’LL HAVE IT READY IN RECORD TIME NOW THAT MY ARMS FEEL FULLY FUNCTIONAL AGAIN!” 

Ben looks at Rey to find she’s already looking at him and they just… smile. They smile and Rey even giggles and all must be well. Ben hasn’t lost her over his inexperience, and Rey’s not… he doesn’t know. It’s hard to think beyond the grinding of caf beans and the suns, moons, and stars that’s Rey’s smile. But they’re sitting near each other, so all must be well. 

Rey makes note the food last night was disappointing and she’s never been more excited for polystarch portion bread, and Geegee agrees to fix several servings for them while they listen to a message.

“What message?” they ask in unison.

“The one recorded on the comm I’ve placed on the table,” Geegee answers from the galley, obviously pouring caf into a cup. “It’s highly irregular and extremely cryptic, Master Solo. I would advise caution if considering accepting.” 

Deciding  _ that _ didn’t bode well, Ben reaches for the commlink he hadn’t even noticed before in the midst of observing Rey, and flicks the switch to play recordings.

“Greetings delivery crew.” It's the voice of that doctor who hadn’t introduced himself last night, but had offered Rey a drink. Ben’s jaw tightens as he leans his forearms across the table. “It was a pleasure to meet you both in person last night. A group of us have been watching you, and we’d like to extend an invitation I hope you’ll both accept. The pay would be significantly higher, and the work would be significantly less.” 

Ben’s lips pressed into a thin line at that. The doctor ended his message with instructions for communicating their answer to him. A glance at Rey was all the answer he needed. She sat near him, all business, curiosity, and even a little bit of suspicion… He offers to make the return call to accept and she nods approvingly. 

“I’m intrigued,” she admits, “and a little surprised, too.” 

“Why? You said yourself attending could lead to more within the organization.” 

“Yes, but I hadn’t expected anything  _ that _ fast.” She shrugged, eagerly snatching up a loaf of bread Geegee delivers to the table, breaking off a large bite. “And besides,” she continues after swallowing, “I wasn’t especially charming, to him specifically.” 

“You didn’t need to be.” Ben nudges his boot to hers under the table. “You’re Rey always, and that’s enough.” 

He doesn’t move his leg, and she doesn’t move hers. She doesn’t respond for what feels an eternity, and there they sit, calves and knees touching with a heavy silence hanging between them that seems to be speaking words Ben doesn’t understand. 

He’s not able to ask Rey about any of it  _ now _ , because Geegee delivers his caf and asks if  _ he _ should be the one to return the communication, given he’s clearly the most functional one on board. 

“Must be something about oil baths,” Geegee muses and Ben groans.

* * *

“Are we sure about this, Ben?” 

Geegee twists his head and Rey imagines him making a face at her, if he could move the casings of his face, but he doesn’t answer. Rey addressed the captain of the ship, after all. Not the co-pilot. 

Ben sighs and she sees him lift a shoulder in question. “To be honest, no. It's more than a little strange if I’m being honest. I’ve never accepted something like this, not even with my old crew.”

“Well of course you haven’t.” Rey flops back in her seat as Geegee fully swivels around to face her. 

“May I ask what exactly you mean with an accusation like that, Mistress Rey?” 

“Nothing to be offended on Ben’s behalf, Geegee. Cool your systems.” She bites on the inside of her cheek, loosing a huff. “From the work I’ve done with you in this almost year now, it’s all mostly on the right side of New Republic laws and regulations, and I imagine it was the same with your previous crew. No entanglements with spice runners, pirates, or questionable smugglers, correct?” 

“We keep that to a minimum, that is correct.”   
  
Rey nods, glancing at Ben, who’s twisted his chair half around now, listening to her. “So… these instructions: meet a cargo ship on Anthan Prime in the Outer Rim. Land the  _ Steadfast _ on the cargo ship and fly with their crew as extra security as they return to a smaller med station near Hosnian Prime. This is a test run. To see if we’ll follow orders no matter how strange it sounds.” 

“Is this one we hope to pass or not?” Geegee asks, sincere and void of any irony. 

“I don’t know,” Rey answers honestly. Ben offers her a half smile as he turns back around to the control panel, and Rey decides now would be an appropriate time to practice clearing her mind and listening. 

It’s best to walk into intriguing and questionable situations as prepared as possible. 

* * *

Rey doesn’t want to pass this test, and she knows that from the first words barked at them as they came down the ramp. 

“Your droid isn’t allowed off your ship.” 

A Twi’lek with orange skin and muscular arms folded over his chest glowers at them until Geegee apologizes and backs himself back up the ramp. Rey reaches out and…  _ pride _ . The ship is saturated with it. The Twi’lek male is joined by another Twi’lek male with blue skin, two Rodians, and two female humans. 

One of the females steps forward. “We hope you’ll understand but there’s no need for him in what you’ll be doing.” 

“And what is our job, exactly?” Ben’s words send chills down Rey’s spine. He’s so… different now that she knows him.  _ Really  _ knows him. It’s easy to be intimidated by his massive form and deep, hard voice, with no give at all. Anyone can see that he’s in control of himself and his surroundings… and Rey finds herself enjoying business, no-nonsense Ben. 

“Our security detail was held up from their previous job, and the Doc told us he’d find replacements.” The female eyes Ben up and down, a lascivious smile curling up her dark face, white teeth gleaming in contrast. “Didn’t mention how pretty that backup would be, though…” 

“What are we meant to be guarding?” Rey asks, taking a possessive step closer to Ben. In hindsight, this may not have been the best of ideas, standing so that her backside now brushes against the front of Ben’s thigh and hips. She  _ feels _ his sharp intake of breath, and doesn’t know if that’s from irritation or… something else entirely. It’s something she’s interested in exploring back on the privacy of their own ship, though… but now she’s gone and done. She’s given the crew an advantage over her. Revealed her weakness to them… 

She hates when her mind screams at how stupid her heart can be… 

“Need to know,” one of the Rodians snaps in response. The female hasn’t ceased in her open perusal of Ben, eyes occasionally flitting between him and Rey, dark, keen gaze searching… seeking…

“I think the fact that we’re here means we need to know.” Ben’s words are silken stone, smooth but firm, enough to set loose a flutters and flurries in Rey’s core, but he doesn’t stop there. To her endless amazement, he brings one of his hands to her waist, simultaneously moving forward while pulling her closer into him. “My partner and I prefer working as prepared as possible.” 

Partner… That’s right. She’s his partner… And he’s hers…  _ Hers _ … It’s so stupid. So incredibly stupid, bad timing. She ought to be focusing on the hangar, observing as much as possible to relay to Ben when they’re alone—if they’re ever given the chance to be alone—but all she’s able to think is how Ben’s hand spans her entire waist. It’s massive and her words from after the party flash across her mind…

It’s possible she meant those flirations a bit more than she realized at the time… 

“Nothing you can’t handle,” the female answers. “Set your blasters to stun while you’re on board and Rizor will show you to your station.” 

No one moves until Ben and Rey comply, and Rey can only chastise herself for missing the feel of Ben’s hand over her waist more than she worries over this strange job. 

* * *

“I don’t like this.” 

“You’re the one who trusts them all so implicitly.”

Ben’s eyes narrow at her. “That doesn’t mean I’m at the place of willingly landing my ship on  _ their _ cargo transporter and ‘assisting’.” He gives such dramatic emphasis to the last word he speaks that Rey has to bite back a giggle. Giggling at irritated and concerned Ben isn’t a good idea. Nor is it something a partner who respects her other partner does… Rey shakes herself, because Ben’s still speaking (hissing, actually). “We don’t even know what we’re assisting with. They left us back here to monitor, but what the kriff are we even monitoring?”

“Doors.” Rey indicates to her right and Ben’s left. “We’re here to monitor two levels worth of doors, and they’re obviously monitoring us now.” 

“Of course.” Ben drags a frustrated hand through his hair. “How many cameras did you count?” 

“Eight.” Rey crosses her arms over her chest, turning so that she’s facing the doors again, angling her face up to Ben. “Given that there are only six doors on each level, whatever this is, it has to be of some form of value to Command Station.” 

“Why not transport it back there directly?” Ben turns as well, his arm touching hers as he slides his hands in his pockets.

“Maybe it has to be processed first?” She hopes that’s an intelligent sort of answer, because it’s hard to think beyond the fact Ben hasn’t side stepped away or… anything. He’s just standing there, continuing to touch, reaching out in the Force. She follows his example, trying to  _ see _ … 

A cry of confusion and fear yelps in her mind, and Rey nearly stumbles backwards, but Ben’s hand is there, catching her before she can fall.    


“You felt it, too?” 

She gives a small nod. It seems it should be impossible to  _ hear _ feelings in the Force, but she’s coming to discover more things are possible than she would have previously imagined… She doesn’t say any of this aloud, though, not wanting to draw more attention to themselves than they likely already have. If this entire job is a test, they’ve probably failed already by Ben jumping down to her level and talking with her, but it was a long journey through hyperspace to Hosnian Prime from here… And in her defense, she hadn’t asked him to come down to her—that was all Ben… But none of that’s important as she feels that groggy confusion tangled with fear again. 

“This way.” She cants her head right and starts walking. There’s nothing to actually hear, but the cries in Rey’s mind are becoming more alert, more aware. And much more frightened. 

It’s a cacophony of pleas and shouts in frantic despair when she and Ben here it—

_ THUD! THUNK! _

“Second level!” Ben keeps his triumphant voice low, and jumps for the railing. It’s impressive how quickly he’s able to jump that height and climb up, and even more impressive when he reaches his back down to Rey. “Jump,” he says, like he has no doubt in his mind that she’ll make it. 

Rey’s not as certain. “I…” 

“Use the Force, focus your thoughts, and jump.” He adds his second arm to the first, prepared to catch her. All she needs to do is make it halfway. She squeezes her eyes shut, reaching out (literally and figuratively, she’ll take all the help she can get in this moment) and jumps…

Ben’s hands catch her wrists, or maybe it’s her fingers clamping around his forearms. Either way, she makes it up and they rush to the door at the end of the row. Rey smashes the keypad with her blaster, rushing to the edge of the door, pulling with all her might. 

“What if that had triggered an explosion? Or an alarm?” 

Rey grunts, struggling with the heavy door. “It probably triggered an alarm of sorts actually…” The weight is more than she’d anticipated, and the automatic sensor must be further back than she’d guessed, too. “A little help here, please.  _ Kylo. _ ” 

“I prefer standing where I can see if I need to blast something from attacking you as soon as that door reaches the auto sensor and opens.” 

“ _ If  _ it ever—yes!” She doesn’t know how she managed it, but the door budges just enough to reach the sensor, opening with a sharp hiss… 

Rey loses all feeling in her legs when she sees what’s inside. 

People. Non humans and humans crammed into the cargo hold, so many of them they’re all partially laying over each other. Hands and ankles bound, not one of them moving… or even awake. Save for one on the end. A girl with purple eyes. Wide with fear. She cowers back as Rey all but throws herself down, crawling over to the girl. 

“Who are you? What’s your name?”

The girl says something in a language Rey doesn’t know. It’s sort of familiar from her lessons when she was younger, but it isn’t one she was required to learn for any tests, so she didn’t. She’s cursing her laziness now and looks back to Ben.    
  
“I can’t understand her, either.” His jaw tightens as he steps closer to the room. “I can’t sense any of them either. None of them... “ 

“Sedatives,” Rey supplies, but Ben shakes his head. 

“I can still feel life forms even when sedated,” he insists. “They’re still alive, still breathing.” 

“Experimentally strong ones then.” They don’t have time to argue semantics right now. “This  _ is _ a delivery for doctors.” 

“Fine. D’you…” Ben pauses, swallowing hard and clearing his throat as Rey continues to watch the girl. She continues to try to communicate with them and Ben stoops down, wrapping his fingers around Rey’s arm. “Do you think they’re  _ all _ —” 

“Yes. I do.” The horror washes over Rey. Cold horror that decimates all rational thought. “They’re all stuffed with people. Captives. Slaves to science.” 

Ben doesn’t answer, but his grip on her arm tightens. She hears his breath hitch and it’s all she needs. She knows he’s with her. “How long do we have before one of them comes bursting in here and stuns or blasts us?” 

“Not long at all—a few minutes tops.” Ben hesitates, but adds, “I’m surprised they haven’t already, actually.” 

“That’s how long we have to come up with a plan.” She snaps her face to him, locking her gaze to his. 

“Pl— _ what? _ What  _ plan _ , Rey?!” 

“We’re not allowing this cargo transporter to land at that med station. We’re  _ not _ .” 

“We don’t have a choice.” Ben’s eyes are wide, but she reads his face. He’s an open book to her, and she can  _ feel _ the conflict within him. He’s horrified and doesn’t want to make this delivery either. He wants to act, to do something to set everyone free. He wants to keep Rey safe, too, though. She’s not sure if he means for her to read that, but that doesn’t matter because his throat is bobbing with heavy swallows and he’s alternating between clearing his throat and raking a hand through his hair. “We’re locked on the ship—we can’t take off while hurtling through hyperspace. And besides that, we don’t have space for everyone that could be behind these doors. Nor do we have the  _ time _ .” 

Time… 

_ Think, think, think _ … Rey tries to think. Tries to focus beyond her cries at night and how she once had a master. She doesn’t know if she’s currently breathing because something’s pressing against her lungs, squeezing all the air out with a vice-like grip. She remembers Puse yanking and pulling as she cried out to a ship in the sky, begging it to come back for her. 

_ “Come back, come back!!”  _

Everything tunnels and she’s cold. It’s eerie and consuming and she’ll never be warm or happy again. Never be free. Always be a slave. Something clangs against the floor and she tracks the sound—

There’s a brand on her wrist where it once was clean and smooth.

She’s marked. She was never free and this has all been a dream—

A beautiful, wonderful dream—

“REY!” 

She crashes against the floor, fighting against the strong arm bound around her waist, until she smells him. It’s funny that smell is the first sign she’s returned to reason, that  _ this _ is her reality. She smells Ben—clean and fresh with a hint of spices.

Blasters are going off and fear from the girl spikes in Rey’s senses. 

Or maybe that’s Rey’s… 

_ Breathe _ , she admonishes herself.  _ Calm. Focus. And breathe.  _

The blaster fire stops and Ben’s on his feet, lithe and graceful as a predator on the prowl. Or one ready to protect what’s his. 

She scrambles to her feet next to him. “Looks like we’re improvising,” she manages to say, surveying the ground level to see both Rodians crumpled to the floor, blasters abandoned near where they lay. 

“Seems that way.” Ben catches her wrist as she makes for the railing, pulling her back closer to him, eyes worried and searching as they flicker all over her face. “Are you all right, Rey?” 

“Yeah.” She shakes free of his grip only to slot her fingers in the gaps between his, squeezing tight. “I am now. Thank you.”  _ For saving me just then _ .  _ For helping me. For being there for me. For training me. For… everything _ . It’s more than she can say, but she hopes he understands… Thinks maybe he does as a dusting of pink comes to his cheeks. She drops her hand and points to the Rodians. “That’s two. Still have the Twi’leks and the females.”    
  
“Escape pods.” Ben rubs two fingers over his chin, shaking his head. “I don’t know if it’ll work, I don’t even think it will, actually, but we’ve still got a little while left in hyperspace. We stun anyone coming for us and get them all in escape pods and eject them once we drop out into Hosnian Prime. They’ll land safely to be found by the New Republic.” 

“That’s an idea,” Rey concedes. It  _ was _ … There are too many variables, though. Escape pods would be even smaller than the cargo holds and the captives would all be dead weight… And Rey’s not certain of her skills with the Force to lift several at a time for such a distance— “It’s not going to work.” Her heart sinks as she looks to Ben. “I can’t… there are so many and—” 

“I know… you’re right, but what—”

A spark bursts through Rey’s mind and she claps her hand over Ben’s mouth. “We’ll jettison out the crew!” 

Shouts and the clatter of heavy footfalls against metal echo and clang into the cargo area, drowning out Ben’s question. 

“Shoot, stun, I don’t care!” She’s up and moving to conceal herself, her blaster aimed and ready. “Just see the crew is taken down and we’ll stuff them in an escape pod. We’ll eject it as soon as we drop out of hyperspace and land ourselves.” 

Ben opens his mouth like he’s about to ask more questions, but the room explodes in blaster fire and the girl behind Ben and Rey screams, trying to move herself to safety, but her limbs must not be fully awake, yet. The Force flows through Rey. She’s one with it… filled with the need to protect. To fight on behalf of one who can’t fight for herself. 

* * *

It’s really a rush idea, and Ben can’t believe it’s working thus far. He and Rey debated through every finer point as they dragged the Rodians and Twi’leks to an escape pod. The Rodians and one of the Twi’leks are dead, Rey stunned the other. He doesn’t ask questions, remembering her cries that first night on the  _ Steadfast _ . She’d wept in the shower, and only the Force knows the vows she very well could have made to herself that day. 

He makes for the door, steadfast in what he needs to do, certain of the plan—

“Ben!” 

He hardly has time to turn and address the worry in Rey’s voice when he stumbles backwards against the force of her weight. She must have sprinted to launch herself at him like that. He doesn’t have time to speak before she smooshes her lips to his cheek. He sucks a sharp breath as she draws back, loosening her hold around him, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her gaze flits all across his face, as if searching....  _ Looking _ …

“Be careful,” she whispers to him, dropping down and backing towards the escape pod door. “I’ll wait for you here.” 

“I’ll come right back to you. I promise.” 

He’s confident as he marches through the ship. His boots clack over the floor and their echo rings hollow in his ears as he empties himself of everything. No fear, no emotion, no rage, no… lust or whatever this is with Rey. He needs to take out the pilot and her co-pilot. 

He needs to get them back to the escape pods. 

He needs to get back to Rey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Human trafficking is still real and present today, and it's always been weird to me and struck an odd chord that Star Wars brings it up, but never seems to do anything about it. Until "Master and Apprentice" by, Claudia Gray. It's a beautiful book set 7 or 8 years before "The Phantom Menace" if anyone is interested. One of her characters is a slave who escaped, and is able to make a difference in some small way in the galaxy. Her character and story inspired me to allow Rey her own moment to fight for the oppressed. And to give Ben a moment to do something Anakin always wanted to do: free slaves. Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the bottom of my heart, thank you all!! Readers, alphabet team and... everyone!!! 😍😍I hope y’all like this chapter! Really, really, REALLY hope y’all like this one! 💙💙💙💙

* * *

“I will update my programming to make note of the fact we will be declining all calls from the Command Station henceforth.” 

Ben looses a low grunt, lifting his head from the table, his arm still wrapped tight around his waist. “I think that would be wisest, yes, Geegee.” 

“Very good. And you’re welcome, Master Solo; although, you didn’t specifically express any form of gratitude.” It’s ridiculous how the droid could continue to chirp so after nearly five years with Ben, he ought to be able to make the distinction between sarcasm and sincerity by now… “Though, perhaps you’re not feeling entirely gracious over the pending loss of income—the Command Station  _ did _ pay well. Even for the simplest of delivery runs, and—”

“We’ve heard enough on the Command Station for now, Geegee,” Rey interjects, her boots snapping with determination against the floor in such a way that made Ben sink back into the bench, more at ease already. 

“As you wish, Mistress Rey. Shall I prepare tea for both you and Master Solo?” 

“There’s no need—”

“Please do. That herbal blend in the far left corner. Thank you.” 

It’s clear Ben’s protesting is going to be overridden in this. Nothing left to do but prop his head back… Succumb to sleep… 

“ _ You were nearly bested by a pathetic bounty hunter. What a waste of the years.”  _

Ben’s breathing hitched, everything within him going numb and cold. Even his side ceased to throb in the wake of Snoke’s snide rebuke. 

Inhale.  _ There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.  _ He’d known resistance was likely, even planned and prepared for it. Especially after shooting the co-pilot. Regardless that it had been in self-defense; he certainly wouldn’t have seen it that way if Rey had been shot—why should he expect the pilot to see it as such, either? But when given the choice to surrender, she’d put up a struggle… and he’d hardly nearly been bested. Only almost stunned by his own blaster at one point.

Exhale. He taps down on his shields, loathing that he can longer look forward to rest on the way to Pijal. There’s the possibility of nightmares now, and Ben wants nothing more than a nap in the aftermath of such a rush… He has the funny feeling he’s being watched and cracks open an eyelid. “What?” Rey continues to glare at him and he’ll be a Bantha’s uncle before he concedes with this. “Caf sounds better—no. Caf is always better.”

“ _ Not _ with cupcakes,” she counters, face drawn and serious. 

“I bet  _ especially _ with cupcakes.” Ben lifts his head from the bench and that’s somehow more painful and the effort all the greater than when he’d lifted up from the table. Nevertheless, he has a point to make. “In fact, I’ll bet the deep, dark, bitter brew would compliment the sweetness of those cupcakes so good—” 

“Ben.” Rey touches a finger to his lips, silencing him instantly. So… They’re going to be openly touchy now. Good. Very good. It’s the only way he can learn what she likes and become more experienced, right? He tries to make eye contact, but she’s already looking to Geegee. “Will you bring Ben’s tea to his quarters when it’s ready? I’m going to settle him into bed and apply the bacta patches there.” 

“Excellent forethought, Mistress Rey.” 

Ben’s already objecting as Rey leans down to assist him upright. “I’ll be fine out here.” 

“I know.” She tucks gently into his side, looping his free arm over her shoulders, careful to mind where he’s sore and likely already bruising.

“I don’t  _ need _ my bed.” 

She nods against his arm. “That’s true.” 

“ _ You’re _ injured, too,” he tries. She’s clearly not getting it… 

“But not as much as you. I can’t believe you just pointed the blaster to the pilot’s head and thought that would be enough.” 

Okay,  _ now _ she’s insulting his intelligence. “I did not just—Were you watching from the cams because—How would  _ you _ —?” Words die on his throat as Rey makes a face at him. “It seemed the best idea at the time,” he grumbles.

“I know.” Rey waits for him to enter his access code, eyes fixed on the floor until the door hisses open. “And sorry about the caf, but the tea will suit you better for now.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Ben snorts, surveying his room. Specifically, his bed. With the pillows already propped, sheet pulled back, and medkit already prepped at his bedside. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”  _ Please, make me your home _ . He clears his throat… “And since when do you know my access code?”  _ Why haven’t you used it before? Will you use it again now that you know it? _

“I got it from Geegee,” she answered primly, helping to lower himself onto his bed without dropping completely. “I would have been able to guess it, though,” she continues, dropping to her knees, tugging at one of his boots. “It’s far too easy, you should—”

“It’s  _ not _ too—and what the blazes are you doing?” 

Rey manages the first boot off and moves to the second, removing it with more ease than the first, and Ben’s too stunned to move away from her touch. “I’m helping you,” she finally answers, expression clear and… full. Everything about the way Rey is looking at him is so  _ full _ right now. Full of…  _ everything _ . He’s seen lovers look on each other like this before, but he never imagined… Especially not coming from  _ Rey _ …

It’s the least he can do to blush under such an open gaze. “You don’t have to do that,” he mumbles, simultaneously bringing his legs up to the bed and sinking back into the pillows. 

“I want to.” 

All air rushes from Ben’s lungs once more, for an entirely different reason this time. She wants to help him.  _ Down boy _ . He forces logic back into his senses; they’re partners and this is hardly the first time she’s helped him—

“And don’t you dare get comfortable yet, Ben Solo. You’ll have to take off your jacket and remove your shirt so I can apply the bacta patches to your ribs.” 

_ Bossy _ . He doesn’t mind. Not one bit. “Who will help you with yours?” he mumbles, doing as she bid, sneaking an immediate peek of her face once he pulls his shirt from his head. Something primal and proud preens as Rey’s cheeks are tinged with pink and she fixes her attention on the medkit. 

“You came back for me,” she says, low and soft as she applies the bacta patch. Her eyes meet his, and there’s a glassy sheen to them, the greens, browns and flecks of gold iridescent. 

Irresistible. Not that he could ever want to resist now. Not after all this time with her… Not that he resisted much of anything with her from the moment they were first reunited. 

“We’re partners,” he answers, taking her hand in his, tracing his thumb over her knuckles. He hopes she understands that he means it as more than that. They’re… She’s his…  _ more _ . More than he’s ever expected to feel or desire from anyone ever… Not that it’s easy to put into words. 

Maybe Rey gets it, though, because she’s smiling at him as the door hisses open and Geegee shuffles through with his tea. Her throat bobs once before she says, “Partners. That’s right.” 

They’re mostly quiet as they share the pot of tea, but it’s comfortable. Rey continues to sit on his bed, close enough to assist if he needs, but not close enough to hint at any of the things Ben’s longing for… But maybe it’s because Geegee invites himself to remain, too, blaring off details of their next job on Pijal.

* * *

It’s been two weeks now, and Rey’s never felt so unfocused and unbalanced in all her life. She blames it all on Ben, of course. When he’s not around, she can’t think to make the simplest of repairs, wondering where he’s gone and if he’s all right, and when he’s coming back (because it’s not a question of  _ if _ , not ever with Ben). But it’s agony attempting to focus when he’s at her side, because she can hardly focus on anything but the way he smells. Or the way his eyes glow like dark embers when he’s happy and looking at her. Or the way his hair falls over his brow, and how thick and silky it looks when he shakes his head… Or throws it back, laughing at some story Jawnson has shared. 

He’s  _ so _ beautiful and it’s so miserably unfair that he doesn’t realize it and doesn’t realize that  _ she _ thinks he is. 

She thinks maybe he would have come to an understanding with her after their first night on Pijal. She’d slept with him after all… And has every night since then… 

Not that she’s blushing, because there’s not anything salacious about it. The first night, she’d gotten up for tea, sleep eluding her, dark dreams chasing her down instead… She’d never made it for the tea, though. Not after hearing whimpers and anguished moans coming from Ben’s quarters. She’d knocked and called out to him, but admittedly hadn’t waited long for him to answer. 

Not that he had. 

Instinct drives her to mash the numbers of his keycode and burst through his room, headless of the decency of her sleepwear or whatever state of dress she’d find him in… 

It’s easy to forget Ben sleeps shirtless when watching him writhe as if in pain over his mattress. He had fisted his sheets, tangling them around his kicking legs, and it had taken a great deal of focus and concentration on Rey’s part to reach him in the Force. His dream that night… So cold. So dark. She shudders now thinking this is only part of what Ben’s lived with his entire life… She’d reached out to smooth his hair back, brush some locks from his face, a simple touch before retreating back to her quarters, but he’d snagged her hand, threading his fingers through hers. 

“ _ Rey.. _ .” His voice is so choked, so broken… And it’s as if he’s just uttered a prayer. Or a wish. She responds with soothing coos as she makes her choice. She stays. There’s space between them in bed, but he keeps his fingers laced through hers until they both wake up the next morning. 

He doesn’t say anything immediately that morning after she entered his room and climbed into his bed. She’s half worried and half mad at him by the time she breaks for lunch, but that all dissipates instantly when he drops down to the floor beside her. He’s blushing, but manages a husky, “Thank you,” in the end. He goes on to say they should try the local places as much as possible why they’re here, and Rey hears herself agreeing. 

That’s something that’s discussed and agreed upon at least. 

Unlike the night arrangements. 

Rey waited up, listening for signs of nightmares the second night, but when she heard nothing, feigned the need to check on his ribs… “Just to be safe,” she’d sputtered to him once she’d entered and found him awake, too… As if he’d been waitin on her. She doesn’t have to wait long the third night, he’s screaming in his sleep, and she doesn’t hesitate entering this time. 

The fourth night he just says he’s going to get ready for bed once Geegee has powered down for the night, and can’t meet her eye as he mumbles into his teacup that his routine takes about fifteen minutes… In case she was interested. 

Rey was. And very much is. They share his bed now, and some mornings she wakes cuddled in his embrace. Other mornings he’s holding her from behind at a respectable distance, as if asking permission. There’s been the mortifying morning or two when she’s woken to find herself sprawled out, taking up as much space as possible, with Ben all but shoved to the far edge… But he’s smiling a lazy, sleepy smile at her and holding her hand firm, squeezing it as if to reassure her he doesn’t mind. 

How the kriff is it possible to function around such a man?! 

And when it’s not Ben, Rey thinks of the girl on the cargo transporter they crashed. She closes her eyes and those large, round purple eyes blink back at her. Rey couldn’t understand a word she’d been saying, but the tone of the pleas had been easy enough to gather. 

She hadn’t wanted Rey to leave. 

She’d wanted Rey to stay. 

But Rey couldn’t. She  _ couldn’t _ . They had to stick with the plan. She had to alert Geegee to ready the ship to make an immediate jump to lightspeed as soon as Ben was on the ship and they were out of the planet’s atmosphere. The girl couldn’t come with them. She had to stay. 

It’s the second time Rey’s left someone behind and it gnaws at her. 

It’s a mark she can’t erase. 

Like Dormane. 

Like everything else she’s done for Crimson Dawn. 

She’s no better than the scum who snatched this girl up from her homeworld…  _ all _ of the captives sedated so strongly they knew nothing of what was happening. A piece of Rey died leaving the girl behind. A portion of her withered to nothingness as she forced herself to her feet with one last look at the girl and attempted to explain. She’d tried to assure the girl that she would be safe and found. That this world was part of a government system and someone would come for her. She tried to assure her she’d be safe…

Rey doesn’t believe anything she said did any good. She can still hear the girl’s fearful outcries and possible pleas at night before drifting off to sleep in Ben’s bed. On nights when they’re touching, she clings harder or burrows deeper. She hates hearing the girl’s cries, yet she clings to her guilt as a lifeline. It’s the only way she reminds herself she’s different. That she’s not Crimson Dawn even now. That they’ve not spoiled her soul for good… 

Although, it’s easy to see how selfish and self-serving she is in seeking out Ben and his bed night after night… 

_ Damnit.  _

Nothing good can ever truly come from someone so tarnished after all it seems. 

“Rey! Incoming comm from Lotta!” 

Ben’s voice shakes the fog from her mind, and she’s more than grateful for something else to focus on. Leaving the take-out containers scattered around the table she takes long, quick strides to cover the distance to the cockpit, where Ben and Geegee had been deep in discussion over… Rey can’t recall what at the moment. 

Not that it matters, as a wispy blue image of a fluttering Toydarian shimmers before them. She eyes Ben first. “Kylo.”

“Lotta.” Ben gives a curt nod.    
  


“Rey.” 

“Hello.” 

“Greetings!” 

Geegee caps off the round of greetings and the Toydarian drums her long-nailed, gnarled and knotted fingers together. 

“There’s something on Batuu, the Black Spire Outpost, I want to hire you to get for me—and before you decline—” Lotta lifted a hand just as Ben’s jaw dropped, “—I want you to know it’s a big order. Huge. Your pay will be four times what was last job—and I think you could be in need of some extra credits now, eh?” 

Rey’s jaw tightens as Ben goes still. “What makes you say that?” 

“Your ship, Kylo.” Lotta begins to laugh, a dark, teasing rumble. “The  _ Steadfast  _ was caught on security footage leaving that crashed Command Station cargo transporter. Crashing the cargo is bad for business, though. Cost you a client, I think, yeah?” 

Geegee looses a mechanical sigh. “As I expected…”

“If you saw the crash, why hire us?” Good. Good, good. Ben isn’t answering anything in case Lotta was in on a trap.  _ Would she be? Could she be?  _

“I’m a businesswoman, Kylo.” Lotta’s lower lip curls wickedly under her dangling snout. “I care nothing for scandal, slaves, and illegal experiments. I only see credits, and my client wants this replica from Batuu.” 

“The  _ Steadfast  _ will be—”

“You cannot use your ship,” Lotta snaps, not appreciating Rey presuming to jump in. “It’s already loaded aboard another carrier, but I do not trust this guy to bring it to me. Known for too much swindling and cheating, and he wrecks ships too often. This cannot be damaged, and I want you to oversee the transport, Kylo.” 

Ben cants his head, not answering over the span of several breaths. He looks to Geegee, who tilts his head and stares back, unblinking. Ben’s truly considering this—Rey is even considering it, honestly. She’s a little bored of mechanic work and is itching to see somewhere else for a little while. 

“That still leaves us to make it back to the outpost on Batuu alive to pick up my ship after the delivery and payment,” Ben says tapping two fingers over his chin. 

“Not my problem, Kylo. I think you’re more than able to handle that.” 

“Oh, we are.” Ben makes an airy gesture, indicating to include Geegee and Rey in this. “But I think that entitles us to a bit more compensation—say… ten percent more?” 

The Toydarians' eyes narrow. “One.” 

“Eight.” 

“Three.” 

“Six.” 

“ _ Five _ .” 

“Done!” Ben claps his hands, rubbing them together. “When should we meet your guy?” 

* * *

Hyperspace never changes. For better or worse, it always feels like riding on something that had been thrown an extreme distance—a smooth throw, but a throw nonetheless. Rey’s been tense and fidgety most of the journey to the galaxy’s edge. There wasn’t a direct route there, but Geegee had found a relatively easy ride for them all things considered. They’d had to make a few drops out, at one point in time, dropping out very near a First Order Star Destroyer, but they’d been back in hyperspace before anything could have come of it. 

They’re nearing the end, and Rey’s nervous. She senses… something. Something off about all this. But maybe it’s her own doubts. Either way, Ben’s asked Geegee to run inventory on all the spare parts and interior in case vandals come for the  _ Steadfast _ she’s left sitting on Batuu, and Rey needs to speak with him. 

“I don’t like this, Ben.” 

He swivels around, immediately ceasing his fiddling with the control panel, having nothing more to do that sit and stew over this as well. “I don’t either. All of it, but mostly, I  _ really _ don’t like the sound of leaving the  _ Steadfast  _ behind.” 

“Right.” Rey has to smile over that. It’s a good thing when a man loves his ship. Says a lot of who he really is. “There’s that, also. It’s not my main concern, though.” 

He quirks a brow at her. “What is your main concern then?” 

“I yelled your name on the cargo transporter. That cam footage could have already been reviewed. Your face and mine are linked to the _ Steadfast _ . Anyone on Hosnian Prime could know us and be ready to hand us over.” She floats a hand to her neck, tracing along her collar bone. “The Command Station could have hired a team of bounty hunters for what we did and we could be flying right into a trap for all we know.” 

“We’ll check the merchandise as soon as we board the ship with the other crew,” Ben reassures her. 

“Okay. Okay.” Rey licks her lips, her eyes dropping to the floor as her hand moves to rub her neck. “It still feels off going back to Hosnian Prime so soon after what we did. Like returning to the scene of the crime and begging to be turned in.” 

“We were hardly in the wrong setting slaves free.”

“Did we, though?” Her voice softens there and she stares at him, vulnerable and unsure. “Are we sure they’re safe and free?” 

Ben leans forward, placing his forearms over his knees. “Hosnian Prime security had already begun to chase before leaving the planet’s atmosphere. They wouldn’t leave the ship to simply lie there. Everyone would have been found and helped. I’m sure of it.” 

“Okay.” Rey doesn’t  _ feel _ convinced of anything for the moment, though. 

Ben nudges her boot with his, leaving it to rest against hers as he asks, “Are you doubting your own plan now?” 

“It’s not just that.” The expression she gives him is a pained approximate of something optimistic, and she can see the worry flash in his eyes. She senses his concern for her. His desire to help. “I’m worried and I can’t help it. I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time and just… acted. You really had no choice but to go along with what I’d started.” 

“I’m not complaining about what we did.” 

“Maybe you should be.” She floats a hand up, hovering it in the space between then. Debating if she should use it to cup his cheek. “Crimson Dawn could easily be behind this now. You could be taken into the New Republic for questioning regarding—”

“I won’t let that happen.” Ben doesn’t hesitate to cover her hand in his, curling his fingers around her palm, demonstrating how safe she was with him. How protective he is. 

She turns her hand in his, forcing him to allow her to lace their fingers together, squeezing tight. “I won’t either,” she vows. She  _ won’t _ . “Partners.” 

“Partners.” 

The air is thick between them now. Their fingers are still twined as they drop their hands. Ben’s breathing has taken a shallow turn and he doesn’t look at Rey, gaze fixed on their hands instead. 

Does she dare bring up the crossed line? Does she? 

“You’re the first person I’ve shared a bed with.” 

Ben’s face jerks up in silent response to her admission, his gaze locking to hers. She senses him reaching out, feeling for the lie, the trick, or deception.

She gives his hand another squeeze, finding strength in his touch. And just a bit of courage, too. She hasn’t planned this conversation out, and she’s honestly a little hesitant to admit just how much she wants to share with him. _ Why not admit to the rest? What’s the worst that could happen? _ “Actually, I think you should know you were almost my first kiss.” His lips part and she rushes to explain  _ that _ (because she’s kissed cheeks before), “On that cargo transport. Before you went to the cockpit and I stopped you—I almost kissed you then and there, and it would have been my first time.” 

“How—” His voice cracks and clears his throat, face full of questions. “How is that possible?” 

“It is.” Rey doesn’t know how to respond exactly, or what he’s looking for. Is he meaning has she defended herself against scoundrels to keep things this way? Well, she hasn’t. No thrilling tale there. “It just is.” 

She smiles weakly as Ben continues to stare at her wordlessly. She doesn’t remember everything she’s told Ben at this point. It feels as if he would and should know almost all of it—she  _ does  _ remember telling him about being sent to kill Dormane. Her attire that first day under the grit and grime would lead one to draw certain conclusions as well, but the more she’s come to know Ben, it seems he may not always infer what one would expect him to (or other times it’s the precise opposite and he infers a great deal too much). 

Judging from the way his eyes have all but bulged out of their sockets now, the latter is likely the case in this instance. He stumbles over a great many words all at once, as if trying to convince himself. “I—you hadn’t—you never—I mean you have to  _ know _ I haven’t either—But  _ you _ —” He clamps his jaw shut there, folding his lips in, and pulling his hand from hers to drum his fingers over his mouth. As if worried over what he’s just said, or inferred. 

“It’s fine, Ben.” She scoots forward in her seat, her heel now sitting against his. “It’s all right, I promise. I’ve flirted for information before. Or with the intent of stealing credits. Or as a means of distraction while others go about the necessary work,” ( _ and all that may have entailed _ , Rey keeps to herself), “but the day we were thrown together, my assignment had been inclusive of seduction before killing. I’d been given ample time for all that included, and the fact I  _ didn’t _ take Qi’ra up on her offer for a pleasurable memory for my first time gave the impression I don’t care for sentiment.” 

“But… That’s not…” He cards a hand through his hair, rubbing his neck. “I've felt it in you, Rey. The ignition of a thousand sparks all at once. You care a great deal. More than I think you ever let anyone else see.” 

“Yes.” She doesn’t argue with him. There’s nothing to hide now. Not from Ben. 

He offers his hand to her this time, and she takes it. Without hesitation or question. “What’s the truth, then? Why wait?” 

“For my choice.” Her mouth dries and she licks her lips.  _ And I choose you. _ Her voice lowers barely above a whisper and she comes that much closer. “I was waiting for my choice. I choose who I kiss and mean it. I choose who I give myself to and when.” 

“I see.” His eyes can’t seem to decide where to land, they flitter between her lips, her eyes, her neck, and back up to her lips... “How did—I mean— _ how _ … could you  _ do _ … all of what you would do… without kissing?” 

She almost laughs,  _ almost _ . But there’s an inexplicable lump in her throat, and she swallows her giggles down with the lump, remembering as a former Jedi-trainee… he may not have had ample opportunity for kissing. This… could be genuine. “All too easy,” she answers vaguely, leaving it to his imagination. 

And his say, too. 

She’s  _ more _ than happy to demonstrate on him, after all. 

“Really?” His eyes have darkened, and they’re almost glittering in the starlight lines of careening through hyperspace. And she  _ could _ be mistaken, but his voice seemed to lower with that one question… But she follows the thick bobbing down the length of his throat and watches as he leans forward in his seat. “Easy, huh?” 

She hums her ascent in pleasure—those words were definitely breathy and gravelly and it’s almost too good to be true. It’s like he’s granting her permission for something. Allowing her to cross a line with him they won’t be able to come back from. If she wants to.

“Would you care for a demonstration?” she purrs, not entirely certain how she wants him to answer. 

“Yes.” It’s choked and strangled, and he seems to be struggling to  _ breathe _ —

—Rey’s never seen or heard a more beautiful sight. It’s all the answer she needs to make her choice. 

She drops to her knees on the floor, bringing both hands to curl around his boots. “And… what would you like to see,  _ Ben _ ?” She traces the tips of her fingers up and down the length of his boots, scooting closer.  _ Closer _ . To right between his knees so that she can peer at him through her lashes. “Or would you prefer I call you Kylo right now?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” His voice, kriff he’s nervous. Rey’s almost worried about this, that she’ll take something he’s not ready to give up. She stares into his eyes, searching for how much he’s willing to let her do, how much he’s willing to give her, when from her peripheral vision, she notices him bringing a hand to rest over his lap. 

Her eyes drop and there’s  _ definitely _ a bulge  _ there _ that wasn’t there before. 

“What do you want, Ben?” Her tone is soft. Inviting. This is more than a simple act for her, just as it’s more than that for him. The Force hums around them, and it’s… yeah. She’s attuned to every firing nerve, aware of every heartbeat, every breath (held and released) between them. 

“Kiss me, Rey.” The brown of his eyes is gone, swallowed by the black of his pupils, and she smiles at him. 

Beams, actually. She’s a flame roiling within, eager to spread the fire in her touch. She skims her fingers up outside of his legs, edging herself up, up,  _ up _ … Up and in. She’s settled herself between his powerful thighs now, heat radiating from the center of his pants to her core, even through the layers between… Even in the absence of her allowing herself to actually touch  _ there _ …

“Why, Ben?” Her fingers reach the center of his taut, chorded torso. He’s… yeah. She  _ knows _ he’s strong, ripped, and… quite the example of a humanoid male in his prime… But as she lingers, tracing absent patterns over his shirt, it’s all she can seem to focus one. He’s  _ there _ , and she can’t feel much beyond  _ him _ . She makes her way up to the collar of his shirt, and there she curls her fingers. “Why do you want me to kiss you?”    
  
“Because.” He swallows hard, stooping over, dipping his face to hers—as if unable to ignore the pull to her anymore than she can ignore the call to  _ him _ . His forehead rests on hers and his hair sits over her braided crown. 

She breathes him in and it's Ben.  _ Ben _ . The one who’s helped her, taught her, listened to her, fought with her and fought  _ for  _ her. The one who slept outside her room all night after waking to her screaming. The one who bought her tea and cupcakes just because—no strings attached.  _ Ever _ . Her head starts to swim, and she’s aware of her face twisting and tilting. He smells of leather and fresh soap, caf, and this ship and her head’s spinning as their noses bump into each other. 

“Why, Ben?” she asks again, lips hovering mere centimeters from his. 

“Because.” His breath ghosts over her lips, stoking everything that’s alive and burning within her. “Your mine, and I choose—”

“Inventory complete, Master Solo!” 

Rey jerks back as Geegee re-enters the cockpit, jovial in a job well done. Ben catches her shoulders with his hands… his  _ massive  _ hands. They swallow her shoulders and his thumbs trace over her jacket and he has eyes only for her. 

Not that Geegee notices or cares, as he continues to chirp happily. “We’ll be sure to charge the scum on Batuu should we return to find anything missing.” It’s hard not to laugh. Laugh at the droid’s preemptive sense of justice and outrage. Laugh at the scene he’s just walked in on… 

It’s hard not to laugh at any of it, but Rey doesn’t. She smiles up at Ben as dimples form in his cheeks from the power of his smile and he burns brighter than any sun in the galaxy at her. Geegee asks what Rey’s doing on the floor, but she’s not aware of the answer she gives. All she notices is the wink Ben gives her just before he adjusts his pants and swivels to talk to Geegee. She doesn’t hear any of the conversation above the thundering of her own heart, though. 

* * *

An hour later when they’ve dropped out of hyperspace, the fire hasn’t gone out. Everything’s alive and charged as Ben and Rey walk hand in hand down the ramp of the ship. She wants nothing more than to start the job and get it well and over with now… Or hide away on Batuu with Ben forever.    
  
Forget the job, the possibility of bounty hunters, Crimson Dawn and the New Republic. Even the First Order—they don’t have a presence here. Not yet, possibly not ever.   


She can exist forever in the light of Ben’s smile and the feel of his touch. She can drown in the heady sensation of at last,  _ at last _ , kissing him. In learning every last millimeter of his body. 

It’s stupid and unsafe how unaware she is when they head in the direction of… she’s not sure where they’re going. Maybe it’s to find out which ship they’re looking for. Who they’re supposed to be—

“ _ Ben? _ ” 

The man in question stops and the Force around them goes cold. Fear coils in chilly curls within Ben. Rey’s yanked from her hazy daze as if a cloud appeared and doused her with her own personal cold shower. She turns left, in the direction of the voice—

—And finds a male human dressed in tall boots, loose navy trousers, with a dark leather jacket over a white shirt. A utility belt hangs low on his hips, just as it does with Ben, his blaster resting mid-thigh, also as Ben’s. The man’s short, wind-tousled hair is gray, and he’s standing with a Wookie. 

“Dad?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER 🙈🙈🙈see y’all soon!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Geegee can’t run, and Ben’s forced to backtrack and pick him up at one point." 
> 
> (There are many things I'm proud of in this chapter, but that may be my favorite line in the lot of it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EARLY BECAUSE IT'S READY AND I HAVE NO CHILL. AT ALL!   
> Endless love and thanks to Frumpologist, madi_solo, and QuinTalon <3 Truly. These friends are dear to my heart and have been such help and gems in the journey of this story and I could not have done it without them.   
> And thank you all for reading. Your thoughts, reviews, and kudos mean so much. And the fact you opened my story and started reading <3 <3   
> Truly, thank you all.

* * *

This isn’t possible. This isn’t real. It’s a dream. A memory that’s been tampered with—nothing’s outside the realm of Snoke’s capabilities. Ben’s well aware of this after almost three decades of struggling with it. 

“Ben!” 

The man he doesn’t believe to be his dad is moving fast now, rapidly closing the distance between them. Ben tenses, but something inside him is soothed as the Wookie that isn’t Chewie, that’s only a figment of his imagination or incarnation of his nightmares, roars. 

“Da— _ oof! _ ” 

The Wookie reaches Ben first and he knows—he  _ knows  _ down to his marrow—he’s being hugged by Chewie. He knows these arms; he remembers this smell of fur, shampoo, detangling solution and machine oil. He’s hugging Chewie back before he can help it—it’s an instinct. It’s muscle memory. It’s safety. “Uncle Chewie” was always there for him, and is still here for him now. 

Impossibly enough. 

Chewie emits a series of low growls, and Ben’s too caught up to be embarrassed at the hot tears collecting in his eyes.

“Missed you, too, Uncle Chewie,” he somehow manages to choke out. The Wookie pats him in the shoulders and back, and it’s…wow. This feels something like what he remembers about home. 

He’s blinking furiously to get himself back under a semblance of control as they withdraw from their embrace. Chewie ruffles his hair telling Ben he’s grown since the last time he saw him. “Yeah.” Ben swallows hard, marveling at the Wookie’s affectionate touch. “Didn’t mean for that to happen; you know I wanted to stay tossing size forever.” 

Chewie’s laugh is genuine as he turns aside, giving Ben full view of… 

Dad. 

He’s older than Ben remembers him looking. Wrinkles etch across his brow and around his eyes. His hair is completely gray now, but Ben knows that stance, that look of combined longing and loss. He knows that presence in the Force—that fire, arrogance, and drive. That impression of… of love. 

What are they doing here? Now? Of all the spaceports in all the galaxy and—

“You’re the—this is the ship and you’re the extra crew?” The cogs begin to turn and wires of understanding spark to life. “The delivery for Lotta.” 

“Looks that way.” His dad’s crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and Ben sees he  _ hasn’t _ unstuffed his hands from his pockets. Ben reaches out in the Force. Sensing. Testing. Feeling. 

_ Fear.  _

The old smuggler is still talking. “I know she doesn’t seem like much, but—”

“No.”

Ben turns on his heel, and he’s marching away now. His dad fears him.  _ Still. _ Ben doesn't want any part of that. Doesn’t want to be reminded of how different he’ll always be. He refuses to fit into that mold of family darkness his dad always shoved him in; whatever progress had been made  _ after _ the scandal of Mom’s secret, that’s gone now. Ben broke that line of faith and trust when he killed Luke, and his own  _ father  _ is back to being afraid of him. 

The ramp of the  _ Steadfast _ is still down, and he can’t put enough distance between him and his dad fast enough. 

Rey rushes up to him. “Be— _ Kylo _ . No?” 

“That’s right.” He nods, not breaking in stride. 

“What does that even mean?” She stops trying to keep pace, and that’s fine. He’s not sure how to answer anyway. “Kylo!” 

“No!” He shakes his head, but he’s not even sure who’s watching him. If anyone is. 

Well, they probably are. Rey jokes he’s as tall as a tree and he’s just made a scene in the middle of a spaceport. Like a lumbering child. 

He doesn’t hear footfalls following him, so he obviously just can’t fly away. His room is the only option.  _ Again.  _ Like he’s a pouting, sulking child. 

So be it, then. 

It’s all white hot energy and rage as he uses the Force to punch his code to enter his room. Ghosts of his past already clamber to haunt his mind. That’s fine, he almost prefers the torturous guilt they bring to the wicked laugh of Snoke that already seeps into his senses. Something acrid and bitter is on his tongue, and Ben knows it’s already too late. 

He’s alone in his room now. He brought this storm on himself, and now he must suffer the consequences of his running. 

Alone.

* * *

“Ben?” 

“No.” 

“Bu—”

_ “No!” _

He resumes pacing in his room, muttering to himself, fighting with Snoke. Snoke tells him he’s weak, and he laughs. He tells Ben there’s no escaping blood or destiny. That everything will catch up to him eventually. Ben doesn’t want to hear it. He’s run this long, he can take Rey and run again. He can make a life out of intervals of running between encounters from his past. The bastard Supreme Leader alters between laughing mockingly and growling at Ben. He says he’s a child wasting all his talents, that he’s lazy and weak and maybe he’s failed too much to even be wanted anymore. 

Ben moans and whimpers as his face falls into his hands. He doesn’t realize he’s pressing hard into the heel of his hands until he’s seeing stars, and the stars outshine the dark he feels, and all is quiet. 

Silence. 

He wonders now if Rey’s left him alone. If he’s scared her away with his childish family drama. Or if he was too rude to her just now. He drops his hands as he worries, his heart raging in his ribcage, but a gentle tendril of comfort in the Force brushes against one of the doors to his mind. It feels… blue. Happy and inviting and  _ blue _ . 

“Rey…?” 

“I’m here,” she answers, and her voice seems to come from a position this time, too. “I’m sitting outside the door whenever you’re ready to talk.” 

She’s sitting. Right outside. On the other side of the closed door. No other questions or forced conversation. Just like that. 

Ben’s on his feet again and over to the door in the time it takes him to blink. He punches the button on his keypad, revelling in the satisfyingly dramatic effect of the door’s hiss as it opens and reveals Rey indeed sitting on the floor, her back mostly turned as if she’s indeed been sitting against the door. She’s twisted around, too, blinking slowly at him. 

Waiting. 

She’s been waiting on him. She’s waiting on him now, waiting for him to speak. To make the first move. 

“How long have I been in my room?” 

“About one standard hour.” She lifts herself up in a single fluid movement. “Am I collecting Geegee from your Dad’s ship? Or d’you think you can manage a cup of tea with him and his friend before deciding if we blow this job?” 

“Tea?” That doesn’t compute and he almost frowns. “Dad drinks caf. Strong and dark, no adders or fillers. He and Lando once tricked me into believing drinking an entire mug of it like that was the test to be a man, and I’d never be a man if I couldn’t finish the cup.” His frown deepens now. “Mom was so mad, and I was so wired I hardly slept at all that night.” 

Rey fights back a smile, and kriff, he loves that look on her face. The way she bites on her lower lip to keep it from splitting across her face, but it’s too late by then, because dimples have already formed. Deep dimples that can’t hide how happy she is. It’s either a story of  _ him _ that’s made her happy, or… he doesn’t know. Something to do with his dad, maybe, and he’s not entirely certain how he feels about that—how it is to think Han Solo has a part to play in Rey’s happiness while he’s been holed up. 

In his room.

Like a child. 

Ben won’t stand for this. 

He marches out the open door, snagging Rey’s hand, and sliding his fingers through hers as he punches the door closed behind him. “You have the code.” He looks to her in question. “You could have just come in and made me talk.” 

Her fingers squeeze his, and nudges his arm with hers. “You once said it best: it’s complicated; all of it. I don’t think there’s an easy way to uncomplicate things.” 

_ Force help him _ . She’s everything, and what he wants to do, what he longs to do with every fiber of his being, what every muscle in him screams to do, is indecent. But it’s coded so deep in him, that he can only presume it’s primal and what every male has felt for their one and only at some point in life. 

He wants to stop rotation of the planet, for time itself to cease, and press Rey against the wall. He wants to ask her permission and to hear her give him a breathless, “Yes. Please, yes,” before he kisses her. Here and now. Long, hard, and deep. He wants to plunder her mouth so that he knows the very taste of her and she’s burned into every cell in his body. He wants to know if she’ll moan or hum or sigh as he positions his knee between her thighs and nudges her off the floor. He wants to know if she’ll bend and arc into him, if she’ll let him hold her up, and wrap her legs around his hips. If she’ll grind against him, allowing sweet friction to build between them while they kiss and kiss and _ kiss _ . He’d take all the time he’s been wanting to to worship her mouth, her neck, the lobe of her cute ear. Maybe she’d grant him the right to kiss all the way down to the round fullness of her breasts, or even down to her—

“Are we getting Geegee?” she asks, adjusting her pace to slow as his has, “or are we staying on their ship?” 

Ben can only grunt as he tries very hard to adjust his pants without Rey noticing. He’s not sure he succeeds, but she doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even hint that she’s aware of the struggle and strain now happening against the layers of clothing over the bottom half of his body… 

“We’re doing the job,” he answers at last, only after he’s adjusted to the glaring shine of the sun outside and they’re halfway to what he guesses is the big ship. The one big enough to make the delivery for Lotta. 

His Dad and Chewie must be waiting onboard. Rey had said something of tea. 

“Tea,” he parrots, almost to himself. “Dad was really drinking tea?” 

“Yeah.” There’s a smile in Rey’s voice, the hint of something fond or humorous. “He joked about your mother complaining there was never anything for her to drink when they flew together, and then how she pestered him to switch because of doctor’s orders.” 

Ben snorts but doesn’t say anything else as Rey leads him up the ramp to his Dad’s current ship. He shoves at all thoughts telling him that sounds like a familiar scenario in more ways than one—Dad’ll already have plenty of questions and assumptions about Rey. He needs to get it together and think of the least erotic things in the galaxy before facing his dad again.  _ Hutts. A swampy bog. Sabetues. Massive, killer claws. _ The list continues until he’s once again face-to-face with Han Solo and all thought leaves his mind entirely.

* * *

It’s an awkward take off.

Who is he kidding, it’s awkward leading up to the take off, but Rey doesn’t leave Ben’s side. She doesn’t drop his hand, and seems to even lean into Ben as they review the particulars of the job. Geegee reviews his dad’s navigational system and agrees with their plotted route through hyperspace. Rey inclines her head and offers to go with Ben while they arrange for the  _ Steadfast  _ to remain on Batuu for the duration of the job. 

He accepts gladly and her presence is everything soothing and comforting about the Light, contrasting with the obtuse blare of the sun that beats down on Batuu. It’s obnoxious in its brightness, as if insecure in itself and needing all inhabitants to  _ know _ it’s the sun. It brings light and life to the planet.

It’s possible Ben’s having a breakdown. Or he’s letting loose his inner childhood poet and fixating on something beyond his control while something within his control sits in his path. 

He doesn’t  _ want  _ to deal with his Dad. Doesn’t want to have to  _ talk _ and confront things with him. He’s done that with Rey and her absolution, understanding, and forgiveness is all he ever requires from now until his final breath. 

The fact he’s fighting this so very hard, that he’s straining against the pull to simply sit and share a pot of tea with his father and Chewie as Rey and Geegee study the cockpit once they’ve made the first jump to hyperspace... It’s all the proof he needs to know he’s lying to himself. 

He lifts his eyes from staring into the cup of steaming tea and gives the common area a once over. “So. Not another piece of junk, I see.” 

Chewie gives a low chortle while his dad scratches his neck. “Yeah. Newer model and all that. We needed something bigger for our recent jobs. Been trying to have more of a crew to help out, too.” 

Chewie growls out something about crews leaving if they don’t get paid and Ben swallows a snort of his own at that. Somethings don’t ever change. 

“Did you ever find the  _ Falcon _ ?” 

“Nah.” Dad takes a hurried gulp of tea in an effort to cover his obvious emotion, but it doesn’t work on Ben. He feels the sorrow, the sting of loss. The  _ Millenium Falcon  _ was an extension of Han Solo, and he’d never recover from the loss of that ship. 

Ben sips his tea and he remembers the spicy blend from the set he bought Rey. Maybe it’s all his dad drinks now, or maybe he’s making a real effort and wanting to share something nice with his son. Either way, it melts a frozen piece of something in Ben, enough for him to offer a quiet, almost reverent, “Sorry about that, Dad.” 

“S’alright.” 

The Solo men go quiet as they sip their tea. Ben wonders who’s going to be brave enough to face the rancor in the room or if the silence will devour them whole. 

He opens his mouth, deciding he’ll break the ice first: 

“We should probably talk the job—”

“Luke’s not dead.” 

Ben stops talking, stops swirling his cup of steaming tea. He swallows once, twice. And clears his throat. “What?” It’s a broken and strangled question, and the most he can come up with right now.

Everything else has gone blank. 

Dad’s nodding and Chewie’s muttering low under his breath. “Okay, fair enough, Chewie—he’s not dead that we know of, Ben. He’s missing. He’s been missing since the night you left the temple. No one can find him.” 

“He’s—Dad, I don’t know how to—” Ben swallows hard, his head swimming. “I  _ felt _ —he was gone.” 

“He’s not.” His dad stretches a hand halfway across the table, pausing right beside Ben’s arm. “Apparently he left without a trace in that old X-Wing of his, but didn’t take Artoo or anything with him. Some of your other fellow students—they contacted me soon afterwards, asking about Luke. They did the same with Lando, too.” 

_ Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. Not dead.  _

It’s a voice, a mantra, an exultation that’s even louder and strong than Snoke’s voice. He  _ hadn’t _ killed his master, the legend, his mother’s long lost twin brother. He… he didn’t have to hide from her forever. He could—maybe he can attempt to contact her again. Sometime.  _ Someday _ . 

Dad’s fingers curl around Ben’s wrist and his face ages a decade in a matter of seconds. “What happened, kid?” 

“Don’t ask me that.” Ben scoffs, attempting to withdraw his arm, but the grip only tightens. As if to say he’s not letting go anytime soon. Ben’s incredulous—or wants to be, at least. He’s far too vulnerable over this revelation to be truly upset over anything at the moment. Still, he tries: “Don’t ask questions now that it’s too late.” 

“It’s not though,” his father insists. “I’m  _ here _ . You’re here. All of the jobs there are and we’re paired together for this one. That helluva pilot you’ve got for a partner and your droid are in the cockpit and we’re all stuck together on the way to Hosnian Prime…” A crooked smile splits up his dad’s cheek. “It’s not like we have anything else to do, unless you wanna lose to Chewie in Dejarik.” 

Ben would rather not, as he still hates losing (unless it’s to Rey and they’re sparring). He starts talking—really talking, beginning with how it was Bantha Fodder Mom never told him about Vader. Nor Luke. And, “kinda you, too, Dad, even though I get it,” but doesn’t linger there long. He moves swiftly through failed searches for history, hearing Snoke in the back of his mind all the while. 

Snoke mocks Ben’s weakness, accusing him of confirming every fear and doubt he’s ever had regarding him—that this is even weaker than running away, because at least then he had his anger to direct him. Ben looks to the Light, draws strength from the Light and truth, and doesn’t stop talking. He confesses everything to his dad, feeling lighter than he knew possible with every broken shard of the past and himself he offers up. His dad sits and takes it all, cradling his son’s wrist. He listens without interruption, and that’s not the Dad Ben remembers… 

But maybe it’s the one who thought he’d lost his son for good, and now realizes he’s been granted a second chance; that maybe they could forge something now from the fractured pieces of who they were before…

He senses Rey before he can see her. She’s blue and patience and compassion and understanding, and he can’t help but—

— _ Smile _ . 

He lifts his eyes from his dad and Chewie and there she is, hands folded and leaning against the wall. She’s wearing a grey and black tunic over her black top. It conceals her utility belt and blaster, but Rey prefers it that way; she never minds being underestimated and proving someone wrong, especially when she’s done her hair in one of those twisted braids he’d  _ love _ to take down—one pin at a time. Her black pants are tucked into boots that kiss the bottoms of her knees, and Ben can’t help but think of how they almost match. 

Chewie offers her tea in a series of low groans and growls, but Rey declines. “I’m fine for now, thank you.”

“What’s your story?” Dad’s looking to Rey now, too, a puzzled expression now etching into his features. “You and the droid talked some already about working with Ben, but you got any family?” 

Rey shakes her head. “I’m on the run from Crimson Dawn.”

_ Well then. _ Ben clears his throat, and…  _ Dad _ … It’s strange the effect those words have on his father. To anyone else, Han Solo would appear unfazed, as if  _ everyone _ is running from a powerful crime syndicate and this is nothing new. Ben sees the way he licks his lips and tilts his head, though, and knows something’s up. Like he’s already seen the next three steps in his head. “No mark on your wrist,” he observes. 

Rey flashes the inside of both her wrists to them. “I hadn’t earned it yet. Qi’ra was going to brand me herself.” 

Chewie makes a sorrowful growl in the back of his throat. Dad doesn’t answer. 

Rey doesn’t blink as she raises her chin. “You know her.” 

“I thought I did once.”

A muscle in Rey’s cheek twitches, but she’s still looking at his dad. Still holding her ground with him. “She took me to the five sabers one year. I don’t know the span of time that was your profession, but that was some years ago now. Before CeSai.” She tacks on the last bit softly, as if to herself. 

Dad’s throat bobs and his voice is gruff and husky when he finally asks, “Did she... Were you ever hurt?” 

Rey shakes her head, her sadness rolling over Ben as a cold wave. “Why waste a tool formed by your own two hands?” 

“Right.” Dad looks from Rey to Ben then back to Rey. “Glad you got out, kid.” 

“I’m eighteen and stopped being a kid the day my parents sold me to Crimson Dawn.” 

There’s too much bite in her retort. Too much burn. Her eyes are ablaze with a chilling flame and whatever common ground Rey and Han Solo had found before vanished completely, and Ben doesn’t understand why. His dad seems to, though; something in him wilts and caves under the frost of Rey’s glare. 

“Got it.”

Dad releases Ben’s wrist and gives them both a curt nod, mumbling for Chewie to follow him to the cockpit. Geegee’s started loudly asking about something that Ben doesn’t quite catch, and he frankly doesn’t care to at this time. Rey slides into the seat next to Ben now, and he wants to ask what just happened, wants to know if there was some secondary meaning in the exchange, but Rey threads her fingers between his and asks him if he thinks jogan fruit cake would go with his tea, and not much seems to matter outside of that.

* * *

They land at the agreed upon rendezvous point, Ben allowing himself to get involved with pep talk in the cockpit, of all things. His dad sweeps his gaze across everyone assembled, saying. “As long as we keep a low profile there, it’s gonna be all right.” 

Ben’s arms are folded over his chest and eyes narrow. “What’d you do?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Why are  _ you _ worried about coming back to Hosnian Prime? You lived here with Mom some after Chandrila.” 

His dad starts that indistinct muttering under his breath, and Ben only catches something he  _ thinks _ sounds like ‘diner’...

“Can’t hear ya!” 

“I haven't ever cleared my tab at Freerago’s Satellite Diner and Motel!”

“Dad!” 

Chewie growls, his face falling into his huge, furry paws. He’s just as horrified as Ben. But then again, Ben’s not shocked, is he? 

His dad puffs his chest out, “There may be a little more to it than that, some issue of missing credits with Tasu Leech, but I’m sure he won’t be showing his face around Lotta’s shop. His family’s on the other side of the planet,” he finishes, making a face at Ben now. “What about you? Seeing as how you’re not wanted for the death of Luke Skywalker now.” 

Ben draws a sharp breath. Exhales and deadpans, “Illegal overnight habitation of space on a nature reserve.” 

They’re laughing after that, lulled in a state of comfort that can’t last. Ben knows it can’t last, if for no other reason than Snoke continues to talk to him. He’s seizing every opening to taunt Ben’s life choices. To mock the fact he’s currently trying to covertly assist with unloading and navigating three very large separate crates that he presumes will be put together in the end to create the final merchandise. 

“ _ Weak boy. Foolish child. I could have given you the galaxy by now. You’d be ruling over  _ **_worlds_ ** **,** _ commanding  _ **_legions_ ** _. You would be standing tall and proud. All would cower in fear in your presence. _ ” That haunt laugh looses a string of chills in Ben’s mind, and he shivers. Snoke continues mocking, “ _ Alas, such a waste now. All you know, all you long to do is lurk and skulk about the shadows yourself, no better than your own father.”  _

On and on this goes, and part of Ben tries to fight back, but that’s a bit of a challenge while weaving such large containers down narrow back alleys. There’s also the fact Ben’s not sure he can disagree with anything Snoke’s saying—he just knows that isn’t anything he wants. 

Rey touches her fingers to the forearm of his jacket once they arrive at Lotta’s back entrance. “I felt  _ him _ . Has he been talking to you?” 

“Apparently this delivery job doesn’t measure up to his standards of greatness.” Ben tries to downplay it, because it’s more perfect than anything that Rey can feel it, too. That Ben’s not alone in this. 

Lotta comes to her storeroom to inspect the delivery and all feels normal. Right. Well. It seems this is all going to go off without any issue to speak of. Father and son both keep a healthy distance from the Sabetue blinking at them, while Rey buries a snigger, mouthing ‘ _ claws’ _ to Ben. His dad remembers to use the name Kylo, but Geegee is the one who does most of the talking, ensuring Lotta the cartons have been kept at their appropiate temperatures and nothing was jostled en route. Lotta passes over the credits to the captains of each crew to be divided accordingly (not the most fair way of doing it to Ben’s mind, but he’s no intention not giving more of his portion to Rey, as he usually tries to do), and that’s when everything goes to hell. 

“Madam Lotta,” a droid blares out, entering the closed storeroom without hesitation, “mandatory security checks complete. Our department will update your file, and—” 

“Oh no,” Ben mutters under his breath, muscles tensing. 

“DON’T MOVE!” The droid raises an arm, pointing at Ben. “Subject scanned. Subject identified as Kylo, pilot of one VCZ-120 light freighter, registered name  _ Steadfast. _ Subject wanted for illegal overnight parking in a restricted area.” 

“Now see here—” Lotta flies up into the droid’s face, and it’s enough to almost be touching. 

_ Almost _ . 

And the Toydarian never gets to finish what she would have said, anyways, because the double doors hiss open again, a human male with long, straight, dark hair pulled half-back from his face walking through, speaking in Huttese: “Where’s my order, Lotta? It wasn’t— _ SOLO?!” _

Ben doesn't wait to see which Solo the stranger is addressing. Doesn't wait for questions and answers. 

“Run for it!” His hand cover’s Rey’s wrist as he bolts for the still open back door. 

* * *

In hindsight, he’ll never know how they make it to the ship. 

Geegee can’t run, and Ben’s forced to backtrack and pick him up at one point. He hears blaster fire in the storeroom, but only  _ after _ he and Rey have made it safely through the door. Quick, but heavy footfalls follow in their wake, and he hears Chewie howl something about “nice shot.” 

His dad actually snorts there, barking back, “When have I ever missed?” 

“Not now, Dad!” Ben throws over his shoulder, looking back to make sure Geegee’s made it out, too—

The droid who identified Ben has followed them outside, too, volume on full blast as he blares, “HALT! IN THE NAME OF THE NEW REPUBLIC, I ORDER YOU TO HALT.” 

Snoke cackles, wickedly triumphant. “ _ Nothing changes, young Solo. Your father will always disappoint for as long as he lives. And you can never come out of the shadows without  _ **_me_ ** **.”**

Ben can’t focus there right now, even as the truth seeps into his bones. All he knows is he has to drop back and grab Geegee so they can make it into the atmosphere and into hyperspace as fast as possible. He’s no intention of any amount of time in a New Republic cell.

Chewie, Rey, and his Dad barrel off the ramp to the ship, Dad yelling he’ll go secure the cargo hatches. Rey checks to see Ben moving as fast as he can while carrying a life-sized droid behind her. She yells back she’s going to “assist Han,” and disappears up the ramp. Ben’s panting and gasping, while Geegee is alternating between thanking him and protesting at the indignity of being carried so. 

“No time to argue,” Ben huffs, roughly setting his droid down as he races for the cockpit, seeing the Wookie already in the co-pilot chair. “We’re all in! Close the ramp and punch it, Chewie!” 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of Part II.   
> Thank you all who have read this far. I do promise HEA. 
> 
> Love and kudos to Frumpologist, madi_solo, and QuinTalon for your love and support and help in this story. And again, so much love and gratitude to all of you for reading, leaving kudos and comments! It means more than I can say!

* * *

Ben’s face is sore, but he doesn’t mind. Not when Rey’s cradling his jaw with her delicate fingers and studying him with eyes full of worry and iridescent in the mediocre light of Dad’s ship. He can’t feel a thing to even muster a wince as she gently turns his face this way and that. 

“You’re all right,” she breathes, and it sounds as if she’s reassuring herself. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He dipped his face lower to hers, so she doesn’t have to strain to reach up to him and all. He doesn’t have a reason for why his voice deepened just then. Why his hands have floated up to cup her cheeks. He’s not even sure why she’s allowing him to now hold her face in his hands, but her skin is so soft and the spatter of freckles across her nose  _ beg  _ to be kissed here and  _ now _ —

“I believe Mistress Rey is referring to how you fell flat on your stomach and hit your face against the floor when Master Chewbacca, as you put it, ‘punched it’.” 

Ben drops his face completely into Rey’s hair, cursing softly. This droid would have to go if Ben ever wanted to have a romantic moment with Rey—did Rey Rey want a romantic moment with  _ him _ ? 

She seems to know just what he’s thinking, because it’s her response to chuckle softly, her warm breath tickling his chin and neck. “Maybe we should let him power down sometime. Or see if there’s a place at the Black Spire Outpost we could drop him for an oil bath.”

He lifts his face to lock eyes with Rey; she’s completely serious and there’s mischief in her expression. Mischief he’d like to join in on. “Anything you want, sweetheart.” 

“Oh,  _ excellent _ , Master Solo!” Geegee’s instantly elated at the prospect of an oil bath and Ben doesn’t fight anything the duration of the fight, too preoccupied with the underlying promise that Rey wanted to spend time alone with him. And from the way she keeps leaning into him as they sit and talk, or tour Dad’s ship and ask questions. From every little brush of her fingertips and the way she allows him to catch them with his hands occasionally, and bring them to his lips when Dad isn’t looking… Yeah. He’s almost one hundred percent positive she’s just as open as he is as to what  _ could  _ happen in alone time. 

The hours tick by in hyperspace before having to drop out and make a sharp turn through some gaseous area and make the second jump to get to Batuu. Han doesn’t tease as Ben presumed he would—but then, again, how would he know that? It’s been over a decade since he’s truly seen his father, because holos don’t count. From what he remembers of Han Solo and Lando, girls were topics that came up in general teasing, but maybe there’d been the underlying tone of respect he couldn’t always catch as a child, but now he can look back on and see…?!  _ Maybe _ . Or maybe Dad’s just not wanting to say anything too much that would trigger Ben to run off and go another fifteen years before they see each other again. 

Ben doesn’t know anything for certain at this point, at least, not outside of Rey’s hand in his. Snoke tries to taunt, mock, and belittle projects and jobs Dad’s been up to, but… whatever. That’s nothing new. And Ben’s not entirely in the mood for it. Things are good on the journey back to Batuu, back to his (and Rey’s by now, honestly) ship, and things feel  _ good _ . They feel  _ real  _ good. 

“ _ Does it now, Young Solo? The mighty Kylo delivery man outrunning his enemies once again _ — _ but only until the next time...”  _

Ben mumbles a curse before lifting a spoon to his mouth. 

“What’s that?” Han asks as he lowers his spoon back to his bowl.

“Nothing.” Ben swallows his spoonful too fast and the contents burn down his throat. A metaphor for the lie, he supposes, but he’s not about to get into anything like Snoke right here and right now as he’s eating with his dad, while Rey and Chewie tinker with something in the back, and Geegee’s... “Where’s Geegee gone?” 

“Oh.” Dad’s face drops into a frown. “He’s off having a conversation with my nav system. Seems to think it runs calculations inefficiently or something like that.” 

Ben snorts. “Sounds about right.” 

“Yeah.” His dad suddenly pushes his partially eaten bowl of stew away and clears his throat, and none of this Ben takes to be a good sign. “Listen, kid. I’ve been needing to tell you I never blamed you. For what happened. Luke never got ahold of me to apologize or anything, but I dunno if he tried that hard.” 

More words. More statements Ben didn’t know he needed to hear anymore. They’re almost freeing to his soul, but he can hear Snoke’s dark laugh. 

“ _Too little, too late_.”

Ben’s used to open threats like that, and only throws more effort into his shield.

“It wasn’t just you, Dad,” he starts, moving his bowl away, too. “I… I’d thought about finding Mom and the Resistance, but I couldn’t think to face her after what’d happened.” 

“I get it.” The answering voice is gruff, like only Dad’s can get when he’s covering up welling tears. “But your mother, she blames herself more than anyone.”

“You two talk?”

“Somewhat.” It’s vague, but enough for Ben to read between the lines. Things fell apart even more for them because of Ben. _Again_. “She’s… they’re safe. Trying to find Luke and always trying to get new recruits, but she’s… yeah. She’s good. When she’s real mad with herself or Luke, she’ll contact me to at least have the impression of yelling at someone.”

_Kriff_. He can’t help the eye roll as he takes up his spoon to stab it aimlessly into meat chunks. “Guess time doesn’t change things that much, then.”

“Ah, it’s all right.” His dad shrugs. “I kinda prefer hearing from her than the silence. But she talks about Snoke some, too.” —Ben drops the spoon, and it clatters against the bowl. Dad squirms in his seat, eyeing Ben with wary eyes. Worried eyes. Sad and regretful eyes— “I guess Luke admitted some things to her, but seems like you’ve dealt with more your whole life than either of us realized.” 

It’s everything Ben’s always wanted to hear, and he can’t snap or retort back. He can’t summon the anger to fight or yell, declaring it’s been even more than they could imagine… No. He doesn’t even realize he’s still breathing until he hears a sharp intake of air and realizes came from  _ him _ . 

Dad’s threaded his leathery and wrinkled fingers together. Fingers on hands that look like they’ve done a lot of living, that have worked hard. “Leia. She thinks she was wrong sending you away now.” 

Silence. 

It’s so thick between them it’s palpable. Ben can hear the echoes of Chewie and Rey talking and laughing from whatever part of the ship’s underbelly they’re in. He’s definitely not breathing now, but that’s because his body seems to be throwing itself into the urge to cry—which Ben won’t allow to happen. He  _ won’t _ . 

He clears his throat several times and coughs into his elbow as he blinks. And blinks and blinks. Blasted hot, stinging tears. “And… what do you think?” _Don’t ask._ “About sending me away?” _You don’t want to know. He was always afraid, of course he wanted you gone._

“Ben.” His dad’s throat bobs several times, and the Force is a sea between them. It’s a vast and dark void of so many emotions. Ben’s feeling _so much_ , and it’s hard to determine what’s coming from him and what’s coming from his dad. “I think I wish I’d been stronger and trusted myself more back then. I wanted to take you with me that day I left. I think we could have dealt with your mother together eventually, long after she’d cooled off.” 

Laughter bursts from Ben’s chest, escaping his lips before he can think to stop it. To stifle the unbridled  _ elation he's _ feeling right now. And this is all just… strange. He thinks how long he’d wanted to hear these very words growing up. He remembers how bitter and  _ angry  _ he used to be over the past. Now, it’s enough to hear the truth. He can put things to rest. He can let it go.

When had acceptance become so instinctual and second-nature? 

“I think your girl is something special, too.” 

_ Ah _ .  _ That’s it _ . His dad answers the silent question for him. 

“She’s…” Ben trails off because he doesn’t have a counter for that. Or deflecting. It feels like he  _ should _ , but it’s possible Dad simply meant it to be an observation that Rey’s female, and she’s his in the sense that they’re partners… and besides, the rest of it is true enough. “Yeah, she’s—” He has to cut off again, only this time it’s because he can’t form a cohesive thought to say… anything. He flashes a crooked smile across the table while curling his hands around the bowl and spoon again. 

“I know, kid. I know.” 

His dad must get what he’s trying to communicate in the unsaid. 

Rey and Chewie join them eventually for stew, and Ben’s lulled into this river of peace. The Force is gentle as it flows around them on the ship. And even upon landing, there’s a dance to it. Airy skips and leaps that Ben’s not sure he can explain. Rey gives him a funny look as they walk to the ship, and Ben answers softly that he feels it, too. They exchange smiles and accept Han’s offer for a final drink before parting ways. 

There’s a small canteen in the hangar, and they order a round there. Ben can’t recall a time when he’s had this much fun with this many people who mean so much to him at the same time. Even Geegee.

It’s unnerving, but it’s  _ wonderful _ . Kinda beautiful, actually. No one seems to be in a rush for goodbyes, even Rey’s relaxing into his side as they laugh over a story Chewie tells of his nephew on Kashyyyk. Ben starts to wonder if this is all he really needs to make amends with people from his past… even with his past. Time. Time to listen and try—

Hard, cool metal is shoved into the skin of his temple, and his first thought is that his time for good has run out.

* * *

Rey knew it’d all been too easy and too good to be true. 

Chewie roars, but two other figures appear from the shadows of the canteen, blasters drawn and already aiming at both Han and Chewie. 

“Get your ass on the ship, Rey,” the masked figure says, “and maybe we’ll let him live.” 

She doesn’t move, save for blinking up at the alien bounty hunter touching his blaster to Ben’s head.  _ Three outside, no, four. There’s Tanko skulking, probably because he wasn’t put in charge again. Likely two to four more waiting on the ship in case of a struggle.  _

There’d be a struggle, all right. Rey will see to that. Han called her a kid on the way to Hosnian Prime and she’d put him in his place. She’d turned the tables on  _ him and _ made it about Ben. About how she knows they abandoned Ben, and that he’s part of the reason behind all Ben’s suffered up till now. 

She’s ready to turn the tables again. A blaster at Ben’s head and stern command are hardly enough to have her cowering in fear. Or begging for mercy. They’re underestimating her again if they think that’s all it’ll take. 

_ Good _ . 

“Drop your weapons now, and maybe we’ll let  _ you  _ live,” she answers cooly. They all laugh, and one of them even says something about missing Rey’s childish humor, but Rey’s not paying much attention to them. She’s focusing everything she can on the Force. On reaching out to Ben with a message of trust. Of being ready… 

Of needing to summon the blaster from the masked creature’s hand. She can lift things with greater ease in the Force now, but summoning is more of a struggle still…

“ _ You’re strong with the Force, Rey. Don’t try, just do it.”  _

Ben’s words wash over her, and for a splinter of a second, she allows herself to bask in it. To bathe herself in the joy and wonder of Ben believing in her. The shade of his trust is a beautiful thing, and it spurs Rey to  _ summon _ ... 

The blaster flies from the alien’s hand—

—And into Rey’s—

—The canteen explodes into chaos. 

Red laser blasts fire and come at Rey, but she’s already ducked into the table and began shooting at legs. Yelps and shouts fill the air as she keeps low and backs away for a better spot. 

She moves just in time—the table comes crashing down right as she’s out—it’s the one who’d held the blaster to Ben’s head.

“Did you know I wasn’t under there anymore?” 

His eyes widen. “I didn’t even know you’d gone under there—why would you duck under a table?” 

She’s only granted enough time to quirk a brow at him before Han tosses Ben a blaster. 

“Foreplay later,” he yells, slamming himself into an armored male with bold tattoos all over his face. 

Properly armed, it feels like a fight now. Rey spots a broom in the corner that she can use as a back-up if needed. She shouldn’t need it, though. They’re evenly matched and she’s not going anywhere. Aim, shoot, duck. Aim, shoot, duck. Run for the next thing to hide behind. Closer to the line of fire. Closer to protect Ben—to fight right alongside him.

Right where she belongs. 

Her blood thunders in her ears and disturbed dust and sand cloud the details, but from what Rey can see, they’re winning. It’s a brawl and she’s on the side of two Solo men and a Wookie. Those are odds she wouldn’t have bet against even before running from Crimson Dawn, and—

A sharp pain rips through her and the blinding bright of the sun turns to black as Rey surrenders to the cold, black void of helplessness. 

* * *

“Nononononononononono.” 

This isn’t happening. 

“No.” 

They were winning.

“No.”

“ _ It seems you have failed, Young Solo.”  _

They have more backup than Ben had anticipated, though. And they’ve all just… appeared. From nowhere. Blasters pointed at Ben, Dad, Chewie, and Geegee (Geegee! How in the name of—how’s he not all shot up and scrap metal already?) 

“The job isn’t to kill you lot,” the alien he thought he’d taken care of already announces loudly. He’s got Rey slung over his shoulder, like she’s no more than a sack of root vegetables, and his face is piercing as he glares at Ben. “I see you’re all a good enough shot to be worth something, and I think I wanna let ya all live. But nobody move until I’m on the ship with the girl. Understand?” 

Apparently Ben’s dad doesn’t, or he’s still no good at following orders. Either way, a blaster goes off, and Han Solo crumples to the dusty ground, holding his leg in a look of silent pain. Chewie roars in anger, worry, and protest and lunges—

Another shot is fired—

—Singeing the stripe of space between the Wookie and his friend. 

“I  _ said nobody _ move.” The alien’s face is narrow, and Ben wants to punch it. He wants to break that nose with his fist and then poke his eyes out.

He doesn’t have to resort to such uncivilized measures in the end, though. The alien does the hard and stupid work for him—

He turns his back on Ben. Giving Ben a full view of Rey’s unconscious face. The face he’d held so gently and imagined tasting only hours before as he dotted kisses over the spray of freckles across her nose… 

The Force is cold now, no longer dancing in innocent glee. The Force is strong and he’s strong with the Force. No one’s taking Rey.

Not from him. And not against her will. 

She’s free, and Ben doesn’t have to move to keep that true.  
  
 _Breathe in…_

And… 

Shove the nameless lowlife that shot his dad into the wall.  _ Hard _ . Then the other two beside him.  _ Good _ . See how long they can be held down even as they struggle… Still down.  _ Perfect _ . 

“Hey! What the—”

Ben knocks the one holding Rey off his feet. Rey’s fall is cushioned by landing on top of him, and Ben’s running for her now. Sprinting to get to her—

Blasters open fire on him, from every direction it seems, and he’s not sure now if his hold released when he rushed for Rey, or if it’s more of their back-up. He swipes dust from his eyes in time to see an armored figure aiming something black and very big—

His vision explodes in heat and blazing reds, oranges, and yellow. A fire rages where the weapon hit its mark.

The  _ Steadfast _ . 

His ship.  She’s gone. 

Rubble rains from the sky, and Rey’s still unconscious over a body that’s scrambling to get up.

“Not today,  _ thief _ ,” he hisses, attempting to clear his mind. He’s strong with the Force. Rey will not be taken. She won’t, she won’t,  _ she won’t _ . Not before he’s had a chance to tell her—to  _ show  _ her…

Screams pierce the air after the blaze of what once was his ship, and Ben’s suddenly afraid— _ he can’t see Rey _ . There’s a large whole in the ground where Rey and the scum trying to take her were seconds before.

“REY!” He scrambles now, a clumsy, lumbering target for all to easily hit. Searing blasterfire doesn’t find him, though, and he doesn’t think to question it as he makes it to the hole he created. “Rey? Sweetheart, can you answer me?” 

She can’t. He knows she can’t. The eye he can see is still closed and she’s not moving under… 

_ Kriff _ . 

A lot of earth and debris went with her in that hole. He jumps down, landing on the alien’s chest, promptly crushing the bastard’s nose under the heel of his boot. Another hard and swift downward kick and his throat caves next. He does not fear as he reaches out…

Dead. 

The scum is dead. 

_ Rey?  _ He nearly chokes as he tests the Force.

Alive. 

He  _ feels _ her. 

He feels  _ her _ .

“I’m coming, sweetheart. I’m coming.” He tells her this over and over. He tells her he’s got her once he’s successfully removed everything that crushed and pinned her to the ground. He tells her it’s going to be all right as his dad and Chewie miraculously appear to help them from the hole. 

_ “Well done, Young Solo.”  _ He has no will to fight as Snoke strides confidently through the shambles of Ben’s mind. Some part of him almost preens under praise he’s sought after his whole life. “ _ It seems my faith in you was not misplaced after all.”  _

He surrenders to the praise as he holds Rey close to his chest, murmuring that it’s all going to be all right. She’s safe. She’s still free. 

* * *

Rey’s free. Rey’s still free, but Ben isn’t.

He knows that now. He never was, and never will be. Snoke will always be there, and he can’t…  _ He just can’t _ . 

He won’t put Rey through the pain of his own childhood. He won’t— _ kriff _ . He can’t put their kids through that, if they’d ever gotten to that point.

Snoke is silent, not a silken dark chuckle coming from him as Ben sits, decided in what he has to do. He doesn’t want to leave Rey, but he can’t lose her. He needs her to… to live. To be happy and safe always. And that won’t happen with him. 

He opened the ground up underneath her; he’ll never be in control. Not completely. Which means he’ll always be a danger to her.

He licks his lips and gets up from his place at her bedside. She’s clothed in a loose, white medical gown, and he can’t help but think of how she’d hate it if she were awake. It’s too loose and long to be anything stylish, and her hair’s been twisted away from her face in a simple bun, too simple to be something Rey would have fashioned on purpose. 

He’s going to miss her love of clothes. 

It’s tempting to kiss her before he goes, but he can’t do that to her. She’s reserved her first kiss for the one she chooses to give it to, and as much as Ben wanted and even dared to dream it would be him—that’s over now. 

He takes up her hand instead, and touches his lips to the inside of her wrist. Her skin is warm and soft, and he ignores the medicinal scent of bacta, imagining he’s breathing in a precious flower instead. His eyes flutter shut and he kisses the inside of her wrist and the palm of her hand before turning her hand over carefully, so carefully. As if handling a rare and delicate teapot. His allows his mouth to linger over her knuckles…

And doesn’t move when heavy footfalls come from behind him.

“Where you going, kid?” his dad asks roughly, getting straight to the point. Something he’s good at, at least—not wasting time with unnecessary words when he can tell something’s about to happen. “She’s gonna be asking for you when she wakes up.” 

“I’m a danger to her. And you.” Ben lowers her hand and steps away, looking his father full in the face. “I can’t stay.” 

His dad steps as if to block Ben, but that won’t do any good. They both know it. Still, Dad tries, just a little harder. “But where—”

“I don’t know.” Ben shakes his head. He’s tired, so very tired and broken. He’s tired of always being the one to break everything he loves, and he’s tired of being proven right in his fears. “I don’t know, Dad.”

“Maybe… maybe you should stay, then.” His throat bobs, a watery sheen coating his eyes as fear and love mingle and etch themselves into deep lines across his dad’s face. “Maybe you could stay this time.” 

An inexplicable lump forms in Ben’s throat and he sees some things never change in the midst of everything changing all around him. It still hurts to be the one to leave. It still burns a hollow hole in his chest. “Our time’s run out, Dad,” he says, clapping a hand to his shoulder, not too hard, mindful of his dad’s injured leg. “I’m glad we had the chance to talk before Destiny found me again.”

He doesn’t answer as his dad asks him what that means. Doesn’t look back. He permits Chewie’s affectionate hair rubbing, scratching the Wookie on his chest and thanking him before he walks out of the medical clinic.

He doesn’t stop or pause once for a last glance over his shoulder. 

He’s run from his Fate long enough. It’s time to surrender. Time to give up and give in.

* * *

Rey’s disoriented as she comes to. She struggles for clarity against the thick fog of unconsciousness. Screams, shouts, and yells cling to her. She breathes and it’s sticky…

Sticky, sticky, sticky, and she doesn’t like it. 

If she’s to feel anything sticky she wants it to be because of hours and hours spent in Ben’s strong arms, melting into and pressing against his broad shoulders. Everything trembling and shivering as he holds her safe. Thrusting inside her to lazy rhythm of—

“Ben?”

A deep sigh answers her, but it’s not Ben’s. “He’s not here, kid.” 

Rey frowns. Almost, but not quite right. Not Ben, but Han. She decides to test her voice again. “Where is he?” 

“I don’t know.” The voice is dull, void of hope and any former spark of arrogance and cockiness. “But I got a feeling it's some place I can’t follow after and rescue him from. Just like before.” 

Rey doesn’t like the sound of that.  _ At all _ . She wrenches her eyes open, not believing this old smuggler until she sees the evidence with her own two eyes. 

Ben indeed is absent from the room, and she can’t feel him anywhere nearby. 

He’s gone and her body isn’t functioning enough to obey the commands her mind starts screaming at herself. She needs to find him. She needs to protect him, she needs to fight Snoke alongside him. He shouldn’t be alone.  _ She  _ shouldn’t be alone. They’ve run too long together. They’ve fought together too hard to let their captures win now. 

They both deserve to be free. 

And they deserve to  _ not  _ be alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY!!!! HEA. I promise!!!!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prologue to Part III. Content warning here and now: Ben is currently in a dark, dark place. There are thoughts of self harm over the next few chapters for him. Feel free to send your email address in the comments if you have questions and want to email me first before reading or anything 💙💙
> 
> So much love and thanks to all of you. For reading and sharing your kind and encouraging thoughts in the comments!! It means more than I can say!  
> Love always to Frumpologist, QuinTalon, and madi_solo for your unfailing support and time and efforts in making this story presentable💙💙💙 love you, ladies!!!

* * *

This is Rey. Rey of Jakku, former ward of Crimson Dawn, and previous protégée of the Queen of the Underworld. 

None of that matters, though.

All she counts as gain is that she’s Rey. She’s free. She once had a friend, a partner—and now she does not. 

Now she’s alone. 

She’s alone and she hates it. 

Han tries every so often to tell her she’s not alone, that she always has a place with him and Chewie. He always contacts her when they have a new job. Sometimes she accepts the offer to join.

It’s not the same, though. 

She knows what it is to have a partner now. Another half to make her whole. 

Some makeshift crew doesn’t replace that. 

In an effort to “help her with the Force-stuff”, Han introduces her to Leia over holo. “She knows it, too,” he says gruffly, almost awkward. As if he’s the outsider once again. “And she… I think she knew Ben better than I did. The two of you can… She’ll have some stories for you, if you want… And she… Well, she never gives up on anyone. Never runs away.” 

_No. But she’ll send them away when she’s too scared to handle them herself._ Rey doesn’t say this aloud to Han; she would rather not be the source of more strife between the estranged couple. She doesn’t tell Han either that she’d just as soon not talk to Leia anytime soon, not until she’s found Ben and they’re talking with his mother together. 

_Together_. What a beautiful word. A year with Ben was all it took to show her just how alone she’s always been. Surrounded by people and droids, and yet, Rey was alone. She’d never had a friend to confide everything— _everything_ —in until Ben. Never had someone to train her for the sake of… of _her_ , and not to eventually use her as the most efficient tool among many. 

Rey also doesn’t tell Han that Leia reminds her somewhat of Qi’ra. Not too much, but some. There’s a compassion to Leia, a kindness. Something soft that Rey imagines anyone would miss if not looking for it. Rey senses all this, but there resides this survivor mentality within Leia, just as it does in Qi’ra. They’ll both do as they see right, and sacrifice whatever’s necessary for their cause. Rey wonders if Leia’s brother used similar methods when training Ben. 

That’s not how Ben trained her in the Force, and she thinks she’d rather not learn under people like that… Not that Leia has much time to focus on a girl her estranged husband briefly introduced her to; Rey knows this, too. Leia’s a general in the Resistance. She’s a former politician and a princess. She’s a sister looking for her long lost brother. A mother who worries for her son. She doesn’t need a Rey in need of learning to add to her list. 

And Rey’s going to find Ben. 

She will. 

She _must_. 

She misses him so deeply her bones ache for want. She wants her partner. Her Kylo. Her Ben. 

It’s been a year and she’s scoured the galaxy, following every last hint or clue to either Skywalker or Snoke. They all lead to nothing, leaving the hole in her heart laid bare and throbbing anew each time. She eventually meets Ben’s former-fellow students on the Resistance base… They’re nice enough, but they don’t understand Ben. 

Not like Rey does. 

Some hotshot pilot named Poe once tried to flirt, but Rey shot him down so fast and hard he couldn’t think of a response before walking away—pride wounded. Rey meets sisters named Rose and Paige. She thinks they’re sweet, but seeing them interact reminds her that she has a family. And he was taken from her. 

So Rey doesn’t visit often. 

To make everything worse, the Resistance demands to keep Geegee with them—something about “he could have information buried somewhere about where Luke Skywalker is.”

For petty reasons such as these, Rey doesn’t care much for the Resistance. They have their own mission. Rey has hers. 

And she will not rest, will not stop training, will not cease hunting until she’s found Ben. 

* * *

This is Ben Solo. Former Jedi-trainee and former… smuggler? Mechanic? Delivery guy? All the above he thinks. 

He’s none of those things now.

He’s not even supposed to be Ben Solo. 

Snoke calls him Kylo—a mockery to the life he tried so desperately once to have. A means of control to show he never was free. That he never will be free. 

He’s a slave forever. 

To his heritage, his bloodline. His namesake. The child he was and the man he is now. 

He’s a slave residing in cold shadows, a mere cog in the unforgiving system of the First Order. General Hux likes to remind him that he’s nothing, that he’s only someone of remote significance now because the Supreme Leader deems him thus. 

General Hux makes his disdain for Ben— _Kylo_ —common knowledge amongst the ranks, and… Ben doesn’t fight it. He loathes his training, can’t ever devote himself fully to it. He’s only a shell of himself running courses, enduring spars against Snoke’s guards or the odd Knight of Ren. 

The Supreme Leader taunts him endlessly; never failing to remind Ben of the five years he wasted between Master Skywalker and here. He never misses a chance to lord over Ben how clumsy and cowardly it was of him to run from an injured and unconscious Rey, and an alive Han Solo. Snoke hisses that Ben should have slain them all when Ben tries to explain— “ _Excuses, boy! You are no Vader; not even whelp worthy of the name Skywalker! You’re just a child who knows to run, steal, and hide._ ” 

It makes him angry, rekindles the cold flame of anger that once raged so powerfully in his veins… But it’s never enough for more than a singular outburst. One powerful enough to do significant damage—he’s destroyed a TIE Fighter in a pained, furious outcry—but it never lasts long. Because why fight the truth anymore? Ben never officially surrendered to Snoke. It was more or less just… giving up. After running as far from the medical clinic as fast as he could, he lifted a speeder and raced in the opposite direction of Black Spire Outpost. There was enough fuel to get him to a neighboring city, where he stole a single-seater ship and took off… 

Soaring far, far away from all he loved. 

_Again._

He didn’t resist as Snoke sought his mind and read where he was after he’d made a jump to hyperspace. He didn’t fight as the Knights of Ren apprehended him somewhere in the Outer Rim and brought him to Snoke. And he certainly doesn’t go against anything now. Not in word or deed, at least. 

He’s compliant, though his soul recoils. He hates himself and every breath he takes.

He hates the mask to conceal his face. He hates the literal weight of layer upon layer of clothing he must wear. He hates the collapsable staff he’s forced to wear still, in punishment of being so careless with his own previous lightsaber. Snoke says he’s not ready or worthy of making a kyber crystal bleed, and he’s not wasting time or Ben on a new lightsaber until Ben’s ready. 

Ben doesn’t want to ever be ready for that, because most of all, he hates the Force. It’s a low hum that flows through his veins as his heart pumps blood to every part of his body. Ben loathes this mockery of life the Force birthed him for. He’s an instrument of pain and misery, and the Force has willed it thus. The Force allows it. 

Ben’s tired. He’s so tired. 

The only enduring fight left in him is in protection of Rey. 

He tells Snoke nothing of her. Gives no hints as to where she could be. He endures every injury and punishment for it. He interrogates each and every Knight of Ren when given the chance, and wipes every fraction and splinter of a clue to her whereabouts from their memory. 

He forces the focus on Skywalker, if only to keep Rey safe. Ben couldn’t care less about Luke by this point. He supposes he did what he believed best at the time, but there are things he’d go back and change if given the chance. That can be said of anyone Ben thinks. 

The blue light sometimes visits him in his sleep, but it only numbs him now. Voices speak to him at night. Voices of comfort and peace, but Ben knows they lie. There is no hope. No light. No freedom. 

There are his chains, the bonds he must be shackled too until his dying breath.

Until his dying breath...

* * *

Sometimes, usually in moments most inconvenient, like in the midst of a shower or in the middle of a perceived important conversation, Ben and Rey almost think they can feel the other. Rey’s not sure what it is the first time, just that it’s familiar. Like she’s being sucked through a vacuum and she _feels_ Ben. His mark, his fingerprint in the Force. Ben’s first instinct is to shove at a foreign invasion, but he’s powerless to do that. It’s not until he feels her, until he can feel her so strongly that he can almost breathe her clean and floral scent from across the stars that he pushes away—this time in fear. 

They don’t see each other. It’s not more than a feeling of the other off and on, never anything too revealing or helpful, like a location, Rey bemoans. 

She thinks if the Force were wanting to help at all, she’d see _something_ to give away where Ben is _sometime_. 

Ben, on the other hand, is thankful for every second he’s allowed to bask in the feel of Rey once more, and even more grateful when she fades away and no one’s aware of what’s just transpired. He’s not sure what this is, but it’s something else he intends to fight against Snoke seeing or knowing anything about. 

This is Rey and this is Ben, and this is the Force. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to TFA timeline!!!! Some lines are literally taken straight from the movie, but hopefully you'll enjoy the difference story telling around them <3 We have a Ben Solo to save! He's in such a dark place still, and CW for violence and a very hopeless Ben Solo right now. Please feel free to comment if you have questions and we can email for questions or concerns!  
> All love and thanks to my alphabet and support team: Frumpologist, QuinTalon, and madi_solo. You ladies are so special to me and thank you for all your help! 
> 
> AND YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE READIN THIS!!!! I know there are thousands and thousands of other, more special Reylo stories out there. Thank you for allowing mine to be one you read and follow along with. Thank you for reading, the kudos and the amazing reviews! They warm my heart and bring such joy to my life.

* * *

Ben hates Jakku on principle. 

It’s where Rey’s parents sold her—likely for drinking money. Or food. Hovering over the barren and desolate wasteland from space, Ben considers it’s highly probable she was sold for food, too. Which doesn’t make it any better; not when Ben knows down to his very marrow he would sell himself to see Rey fed and safe. Jakku is a representation of the selfish evil that sought to control and contain Rey from the very beginning. 

Ben also hates this ship Snoke’s ‘given him’. Nothing from Snoke is a gift. Everything has an underlying message or hidden taunt. This _Upsilon_ -class command shuttle is too restrictive and confining. It was given with the order that should it be blown up as well, Ben had better make sure he’s on it—seeing as how he’s so careless with previous ships in his possession. Everything about it is hard edges, sharp lines and crisp whites and blacks. 

Ben longs for gray. He misses how soothing gray would be. Gray like the headboard of his bed after a long day, especially when Rey had begun to share said bed with him. Gray like the painted pattern on the teabox he’d purchased for Rey. Gray like with the benches of the _Steadfast_ ’s common area, where he and Rey had brushed shoulders, hands, legs, and feet so many times; where Rey had kissed his cheek. 

In other words, this ship makes him think too much of Rey, which renders him mostly useless. He feels a pathetic excuse of a dark leader, considering he has no desire to lead anyone directly answering to him, and he doesn’t particularly care for the direction they’re heading (literally and metaphorically). 

Landing on Jakku and making it down the ramp was a call to attention Ben couldn’t hardly stomach. General Hux, Captain Phasma and the Storm Troopers had already done their part. It was Ben’s job as Kylo to come in and finish well. It’s unbearably hot and next to impossible to breathe in his ridiculous attire, though. Layer upon layer of heavy, pleated fabric, and not only are there gloves he’s to wear at all times (why? His hands have no blemishes, and Ren himself gets away with being shirtless _and_ without gloves in the presence of everyone in the First Order…). He doesn’t understand the need for this topcoat, hood and scarf—he’s already in a mask. Sand can’t bother him. 

He feels stupid and that this is drama for the sake of drama involving him in the finding of Lor Sen Tekka. They haven’t seen each other in _years_ , easily a decade Ben thinks. And even if Lor knows where Luke is, he won’t talk—and Ben can’t kill him for not talking, thanks to Snoke’s peak punishment. Ben can only inflict immediate pain with his retractable staff, or be made to use the Force to take a life. _Snoke would appreciate that, wouldn’t he?_ Cursing everything about this night on Jakku silently in Huttese, Ben makes his way across the sand. 

The Force bubbles and roils around them. The Stormtroopers have already rounded up all the villagers and set fire to most of their possessions. It’s a waste. Cruelty for the sake of cruelty that Ben recoils at. His insides melt and he wants nothing more than the sink into the sand and become one with it, and turn on the Stormtroopers… Captain Phasma… And General Hux…

Two Stormtroopers have Lor Sen Tekka by the arms and give him a shove as Ben walks. He knows—he _knows_ —Luke’s old friend can’t see him under the mask, can’t find any distinguishing trait to identify him from the outside. He knows Lor Sen Tekka isn’t Force-sensitive. None of that seems to ease Ben’s nerves. He’s raw from fighting the feeling that he’s been flayed bare in no time at all—the span of several long blinks of this former-ally. 

Steeling himself, he speaks first, hoping to give off an impression of authority. “Look how old you’ve become.” 

“Something far worse has happened to you.” 

Sorrow. 

Sen Tekka is sad for Ben, he can feel it. It’s a mournful, haunting, unresolved melody calling out over the chaos and anguish that surrounds him from the village. 

None of that. Ben just needs the information for Snoke. He needs the information as fast as possible so they can all leave without causing more damage. “You know what I’ve come for.” _Take the hint, old man, so I can order us to leave you all in peace._

“I know where you come _from_. Before you called yourself Kylo.” 

_The fool!_ Ben wants to scream. Ben wants to rage and howl at Destiny, the Will of the Force… At whatever cruelty commands their every thought and action, every word that they speak. Bringing up Ben’s past, trying to reason with Ben is a death sentence. And now Ben will be expected to be the one to administer it. Is the old man so proud he cannot see this isn’t what Ben wanted? Can he not remember the child who loved flying and tinkering with ship parts? 

Is the Light so self-righteous and untarnished it cannot bend for a moment to see reason? To see one bound in chains and held every bit as captive as another? 

Maybe not. 

“The map. To Skywalker.” Ben tries again, starting to pace slowly. Pacing has worked before to intimidate sentients… Maybe he’ll get lucky... “We know you’ve found it. And now you’re going to give it to the First Order.” 

“The First Order rose from the Dark Side. You did not.” 

Ben jerks back to this ancient idiot who _cannot_ and _will not_ see reason. _Yield_. Ben focuses on the word with all his might, pressing it out to the old prig, proud and tall in his ostentatious “sacred” robes and flashy jewelry… He steps closer, his final option for intimidation lying in the Force. “I’ll show you. The Dark Side.” He’s slow and deliberate with his words. 

“You may try, but you cannot deny the truth that is your family,” Sen Tekka answers and Ben knows his error. Lor Sen Tekka remembers the angry youth. His collective memory of Ben may very well revolve around that angry youth Ben _once_ was...

Not the man who’d spent five years hiding from anyone familiar in the galaxy. Not the man who loves Rey. Not the man who’s too tired of it all to care. Not the man who believes history is doomed to repeat itself because no one alive knows the truth of what happened to the Jedi and Sith. No one knows the truth of the Jedi and the Clone Wars. No one knows the underlying hubris, hypocrisy, and pride of the Jedi Order… Not even Ben knows the full story.

He supposes he’ll never live to find out now. 

“You’re so right,” he agrees, drawing his saber staff and slashing it across his former-ally’s middle. Sen Tekka crashes to the ground in a scream of pain, and someone yells at Ben across the desert. 

“NO!”

A blaster is fired, but Ben’s already determined he’s not dying at the hands of such a weapon. The Force speaks to him, and he’s able to retract and sheath his staff in a splinter of a second, while reaching out in the Force—

—And catching the blue laser blast in midair, ceasing it en route to Ben. The shooter is frozen in place, too, and apprehended by two troopers rushing to claim their prize. They bring him to Ben, and it’s ridiculous that one of them makes the extra effort to actually _kick_ the guy down to kneeling position. 

_Fools_.

He’s sufficiently tall, looming, brooding, and intimidating while standing. The combination of the helmet and boots add at least four centimeters to his height… And besides, Ben doesn’t want to be worshipped or spoken up to. 

And so he kneels, too. He stoops down to study this new prisoner. This bold and rash man who appears a similar age to Ben. There’s a familiarity about him. An air of confidence and ease, and…

 _Mom_. 

Ben can hardly keep himself from falling over. The prisoner’s thoughts center around his mom— _General Organa_ , as he calls her. He thinks of how he needs to leave to help her. To give her hope and peace. He’s praying that he can get away so he can get the map to her. Ben’s so lost to his own private ruminations that he almost misses when the prisoner opens his mouth. 

“So. Who talks first? You talk first? I talk first?” 

Lor makes a low, pained moan from where he lays in the dust. It grates on Ben’s soul, and he’s in no mood to be bated. 

“The old man gave it to you,” he says, mostly to himself. He needs to come up with a plan that will not involve taking this man prisoner, and maybe keep everyone else alive. 

“It’s just… very hard to understand you with all the—” 

_Nevermind._ “Search him,” Ben orders the troopers, rising to his full height. The troopers follow his lead and proceed to give the weakest attempt of a patdown Ben’s ever seen. Even _he_ would know and do a more thorough job as a glorified delivery runner. 

“Nothing, sir.” 

With an attempt like that, Ben’s hardly surprised. He swallows a groan, realizing there’s no getting out of this. “Bring him on board.” Ben side-steps, allowing them passage by. 

Captain Phasma speaks in the wake of their departure. “Sir, the old man and the villagers?” she queries, and Ben wants nothing more than to retreat, to banish himself to the safety of his own prison that is his ship. It’s not really a question, and she knows that—

“Kill them all,” General Hux orders. 

_No!_

Voices cry out in terror, pleading for their lives. The Force hisses and rages, a fire of its own, waiting for the chance to consume… 

Ben can’t stomach watching. Doesn’t want to be here to listen. 

He doesn’t make it in time. Phasma gives the order and the troopers begin shooting. Stolen from their families and indoctrinated from birth, they have no higher calling, no moral code to go against their programming… 

_Except_ … 

Hesitation. Ben senses it. Resistance and hesitation. He looks to the Stormtroopers, all of them caught up in the lustful surge of power… except for the one lowering his blaster. 

_FN-2187_. 

Ben’s seen him before, sans helmet and white armor. The trooper was mopping the floor, caught in the act of making a game of it with his fellow trooper. He hasn’t fired his blaster here. He doesn’t want to kill. 

Neither does Ben.

He turns from regarding the man caught up in the midst of his own internal struggles, leaving him to the Will of the Force. He hopes the Force is kinder to this trooper than it’s been to Ben. 

* * *

Finding the map hurts—of course it hurts. Ben’s technique is still crude. He’s a beginner at best, and it has everything to do with lack of trying. He doesn’t care for rifling through memories of the stormtroopers and occasional prisoner that Snoke sends his way to practice. Everyone thinks of anything else but the necessary information in moments of crisis. They turn to something comforting and special as a shelter from the pain. 

It’s what this flyboy is doing when Ben searches for the map. He’s been tortured by the time Ben enters the room. It’s standard protocol Ben has nothing to do with, but he feels the guilt from mere association. It weaves itself into the fabric of his attire, making walking an almost impossible feat—even more so the necessity of breathing… And focusing on the task at hand. 

The troopers have already informed him the prisoner’s name is Poe Dameron. He’s a pilot with the Resistance. From Dameron’s thoughts, he fancies himself the best pilot in the Resistance. He’s reached the rank of Commander, and he’s frequently in conference with Ben’s mother. 

Ben takes no pleasure in raking through all the memories of this flyboy. There are stolen moments in dark closets. Laughs with friends. Praises given from his mother—Ben feels Dameron’s pride there. He’s pleased to be considered so highly by his general… 

Ben wishes he’d been given the opportunity to know if his mom had ever been proud of _him_. 

He works faster now, wanting to be rid of this man’s mind. Wanting nothing more than a cleansing shower at boiling temperatures… Hot enough to melt away the jealousy hardening in his heart…

 _Ah ha!_ A droid. A BB unit. Orange and white. The pilot gave the map to the droid. It’s back on Jakku. 

His work complete, he exits the room, stalking the ship to unfortunately find General Hux. Anything to avoid an interrogation of his own by the Supreme Leader. 

* * *

“Sirs. We were unable to acquire the droid on Jakku.” 

Hux's lips curl in a wicked sneer, while Ben tries to maintain a facade of calm, keeping his hands clasped behind his back. It seems it’s going to be one disaster after another today, then. First the pilot escapes with the help of that Stormtrooper, FN-2187, and now _this_.

Lieutenant Mitaka continues his report, shaken and appearing as though he’d rather be anywhere else, say anything else: “It escaped capture aboard a stolen Corellian YT-model freighter.” 

_No_. _Surely not_. Ben blinks several times in rapid succession, not believing his own ears. “The droid… stole a freighter?” 

“Not exactly, sirs.” Mitaka swallows hard, looking back and forth from Ben to Hux. “It had help. We don’t have confirmation but we believe the escaped pilot and FN-2187 may have helped—”

“Your incompetence has been duly noted and you will be disciplined accordingly, Lieutenant,” Hux interjects, chin raised high, ever so pleased with the opportunity to administer punishments far outweighing their crimes. 

For his part, it’s again a struggle to breathe. Because it couldn’t be—it wasn’t possible. The _Millenium Falcon_ had been missing for years, and—no. There were still several out there across the galaxy and there was no way—

“Anything else you’d care to report?” Hux demands, disdain dripping from every word. 

“Yes, sirs.” Mitaka seems to be failing at keeping the shake from his voice, but forges onward, regardless. “One of our contacts with an Underworld gang has informed us the freighter has been apprehended by a cargo ship. A ship captained by Han Solo, a Wookie, and a girl.” 

Ben whips his hand out, dragging Mitaka to him in the Force so fast. It’s the closest the First Order has come to knowing anything of Rey and he needs to be certain of what’s known. And _who_ knows it. “What. Girl.” he demands.

* * *

Rey hates the ship she’s flying. It’s small, old, and really useless for anything other than flying. It’s even older than the ones she and Ben had repaired together on Pijal—and it’s certainly in a much worse condition. Which is fine. That’s fine. 

She’s not with the Resistance officially. She’s not a fighter, so she doesn’t deserve one of the nicer ships; it’s possible she should be grateful they had a ship for her at all.

 _But_...

She misses the _Steadfast_. It’s a stupid sentiment and she knows it, but the first month after losing Ben, she would tear up with every new ship she boarded. Every new ship she was supposed to pilot and pretend all was well and normal. It wasn’t then, and it still isn’t now. Nothings the same without Ben. 

Or even GG-728 for that matter. She bloody misses Geegee—regardless of the number of almost kisses between her and Ben he interrupted. It’s impractical keeping him with her for now; she knows that. She’s flying single seaters for the time being, and the important thing is he’s safe—in the sense that no physical harm will befall him. Geegee may argue he’s not at all fond of routine memory checks and forced interactions that lead to nothing with Luke Skywalker’s abandoned astromech droid, R2-D2. 

Leia has hopes that the combined stimulation from both Geegee and Artoo’s longtime counterpart, a protocol droid who introduced himself as C-3PO, will bring Artoo back from low-power mode. Rey thinks it’s been a year of that nonsense, and there’s no difference in the astromech.

She’s grown restless and frustrated. 

She wants nothing more than to find Ben, take Geegee and steal away on a ship that will rush them all away to the smallest and most insignificant planet in the galaxy. 

Rey wants no part of this war. She’s learned enough from history holos to know neither side is ever entirely right nor entirely wrong. There are heroes and villains on each side, but what will become common knowledge is the truth the victor wants to be known. 

It’s a relief to be permitted to land up in Han and Chewie’s freighter; she’d just been to Naboo. No new leads. She wanted to be there, so she went there. Went to Naboo to relive the memories of him. And learn of his grandmother. She wants to learn more of his history, whatever part of it could be made known to the galaxy. It seems unfair that some portions of it will forever be unknown, and so Rey revisited the lush, green planet for anything that will help her feel connected to Ben. 

Han gives an absent wave as she makes her way to him. He’s staring at a collection of screens, and Rey thinks whatever this is, it can’t be good. There’s also the issue of this stubborn man not wanting all his truths made known, as if Rey won’t find out everything from Chewie, who’s conveniently already giving several low growls to catch Rey up. 

She blinks at Han, dumbfounded. “You have Rathtars?! You’re hauling Rathtars?” 

“Shhhhhhhhhh,” Han hisses, eyes still fixed to the screens, as Chewie obliges himself to continue with a series of several harsh growls. 

“And you’ve entered into a deal with the Guavian Death Gang?!” This really is unthinkable! Does Han have a death wish—is he _wanting_ death? “After you already owe Kanjiklub even more credits than last time?” 

“I never made a deal with Kanjiklub!” 

Chewie hisses and snarls his disagreement, and Rey doesn’t fault the Wookie for his frustration. 

“An agreement is the same as a deal, and you can hardly call it an agreement or simple arrangement between friends, Han. You were never on friendly terms to begin with, and—”

“Ah ha! _THERE!_ ” Han interrupts her, triumphant and beaming in victory. “Told you this would work. We locked right onto her and all her systems are already overriden.” He whirls and is off without another word. 

Rey and Chewie take off after him. “Where are we going?” Rey asks.

“Back to the main hangar.” 

“Is one of the Rathtars loose?” 

“Negative, and they’re not gonna get loose.” Han slows enough to make a face at her. “I almost didn’t believe the First Order chatter, but bounties are already out.” 

Rey’s heart catches in her throat and she doesn’t know why— _liar_. Her voice is no more than a whisper as she starts, “Is it—?” 

Han stops when she can’t find the air or energy to finish, his eyes sad. “Sorry, kid. I shouldn’t have reacted like that about this. It’s not Ben, but it’s something good. Almost too good to be true.” 

Rey nods, looking back to Chewie, who’s smiling now. He knows what Han’s talking about, and as soon as they reach the other hangar, Rey understands, too. There, in all her ancient glory and prime, dirty, and beat-up, and in desperate need of credits, time, and love to work on her, was the _Millenium Falcon._

**The** _Millenium Falcon_. 

Rey’s seen holos and heard Ben talk about this ship often enough. She’s even heard it discussed amongst pirates and smugglers, usually in contempt, but there always seemed to be that underlying tone of respect. It somehow feels bigger than all the stories, too beautiful and grand to fit in any one of them. This ship represents too much past to not openly admire. 

Even Han’s choked up as he nears the ship. 

It seems important he shares this silent moment with Chewie. She hangs back, allowing the two friends to walk up the ramp first, weapons drawn and ready, and she withdraws her blaster from her holster. There’s no telling what this ship’s involved with if a bounty’s already been placed on it. 

She makes it up in time to hear Han murmur nostalgically to Chewie. “We’re home.” It’s so reverent, so completely innocent and touching that Rey instantly forgives the man for the Rathtars that she still believes may get loose (because it’s _Han_ ), and is briefly caught off-guard when a figure jumps out.

“We’ve got you— _Han_?!”

“Poe?!” Han and Rey yelp in unified confusion. Han reacts first, bringing the roguish pilot into a firm embrace that has Poe grunting in protest. Chewie gives a low growl next, wrapping his arms around the Resistance pilot, who, frankly looks like he’s been through something in the time since Rey’s seen him—though he’s somehow still had time to fix his precious hair. 

“Did you take a vacation to the spa or something while we’re all suffering and fighting for our lives?” 

Rey’s eyes narrow, her brow puckered in rising fury. It takes all of one point five seconds for it to register that this flyboy aimed his question at _her_ , and that’s just frustrating. Insulting and _this!_ **This** is why she’ll never be able to stand the man for more than thirty seconds at a time. “It’s called a shower. Daily showers.” 

“New clothes from the looks of it, too.” 

“Yes.” Rey grits her teeth, finding it necessary to count down from ten in her head. She’s not even _with_ the Resistance and he still wants to find controlling aspects in her life. He wants command over her schedule and missions, all in the name of her being “a good pilot.” This difficult, _difficult_ man… whom she doesn’t owe a single explanation to. “You look like you’ve seen better, and your hair needs combing, by the way—what happened to you?” Her words are of dark silk and she aims her blaster at the male human with dark skin and neatly cropped hair… who also appears to be in Poe’s jacket… And who hasn’t bothered saying anything yet, either. He also keeps staring at Rey in a way that makes her want to punch him. “Who’s this guy?” 

Poe jumps to the space in front of Mister Stranger, palms up. “He helped me escape. All that matters now is he’s a friend.” 

“Does your friend have a name?” Rey doesn’t like the way he’s said any of that. Not at all.

“Finn,” he answers, looking around Poe’s back, large brown eyes trained on Rey. “I’m Finn.” 

“This is Han and Chewbacca,” Poe adds, while Rey steps back. “Like I said, Finn’s a friend who helped me escape—”

“Escape what?” 

“Where?” 

Chewie completes the interruption with a question of his own. 

"Thank you, Chewie." Rey nods, turning back to Poe. "Start with the when and then—"

“Wait!" Finn interrupts, brow puckered in confusion. "You, all you guys, can understand that thing?” 

“Hey—” Rey’s blaster is aimed for Finn's _head_ this time, indignant he insulted Chewie. 

Han’s there first. “And that thing can understand you, too, so watch it.” He gives a warning wave of his blaster. “I’d keep quiet if I were you. Keep talking, Dameron.” 

“BB-8 and I were on Jakku, and—”

“Jakku! That junkyard!” Han’s proud and almost snide as he gives Chewie a look. “I told you we shoulda check the Western reaches. Who had her? Dukane?” 

“Dukane? What the—Han! I don’t know. I don’t _care_.” It’s Poe’s turn to appear affronted at not being taken seriously now. “Leia asked me to go to Jakku to meet with an old friend of Luke’s she finally found. Some guy named Lor Sen Tekka. I was able to get the map before the First Order arrived, and—” 

“The First Order!” Rey burst, unable to contain herself. _Ben_ … The arm holding up her blaster, lowers of its own accord and she doesn’t miss the way new guys eyes darken and his face bears the expression of one who’s angry.

Is that aimed at her, though? At her almost relief? Or the First Order itself? 

Whatever. 

She doesn’t care. None of it matters apart from Ben. 

“What happened then?” 

“I was captured, thank you very much for taking an interest, _Mistress_ Rey.” (She’ll murder him herself. Smother him in his sleep for using that cheek on her). “And then I was tortured, which explains my—

“ _Tortured?!”_ Rey and Han parrot in unison, some degree of worry coming back to her system. 

“Tortured,” Poe nods, but instead of taking on that look of wanting sympathy as Rey expects, he merely claps his hand over the new guy’s— _Finn’s_ —back. “Then rescued. Finn here is a runaway Stormtrooper and he’s the one who helped me. We crashed on Jakku and found BB-8 at Niima Outpost, then escaped again, and then we were boarded by you two.” 

Han gives Poe a clap on his upper arm and shakes hands with Finn. Chewie starts looking about the _Falcon_ , getting lost in memories or checking to see how she’s still fly worthy… And… it’s not as though Rey isn’t happy for them, she’s come to learn in this last year what Ben had told her was true: precious little in the galaxy matters to Han more than this ship…

Yet, she _has_ to know, even though she doesn’t want to know. “Who captured you?” 

“They sent the higher ups for this. General Hux and Captain Phasma were present and accounted for.” Poe slips easily into his role as commander, as if this were an official debriefing. “And that new guy Snoke’s brought on. The one they call Kylo.”

“What—” Rey’s heart falters. She can’t breathe and everythings as hazy as if it were coming through the other end of a tunnel… NO! She will _not_ give Poe the satisfaction of seeing her weak. She sucks a few sharp breaths through her nose and purses her lips together. Swallowing hard, she exchanges a look with Han, then Chewie. “What did he—or you—”

“I didn’t betray the Resistance,” Poe snaps, his eyes narrowing at her now. “I got more in me than that. But he got the location of the map outta me. Which is why we can’t hang out here much longer. We need to get back to base.” 

“And just where—” 

A loud, creaking _THUD_ sounds from outside the Falcon, and the ship shakes and groans.

 _Oh_ _no_ …

“What was that?” The new guy— _Finn_ , his name is Finn and she needs to remember that—asks, sounding very worried. He obviously wasn’t used to life outside of a contained environment that included taking and receiving orders. Freedom would be an adjustment for him. 

Rey’s face is pinched and drawn as she says, “Don’t tell me a Rathtar got loose.” 

Han doesn’t dignifty her with a proper response; he’s already spun on his heel, stalking down the ramp. 

“Wait, what?” Poe sprints off after him, Rey and Chewie following. 

“Hey!” Finn shouts, coming up from behind. “You’re not hauling Rathtars on this freighter, are you?” 

“I’m hauling Rathtars,” Han mutters, as if it were as simple as hauling puffer pigs. He’s fixated on the screens again, pointing at one in the middle. “Oh great. It’s the Guavian Death Gang.” 

Poe looks down to the droid who’s rolled himself around with them. “BB-8, you’re coming with me, little buddy.” 

“No. He’s staying with me until I get rid of the gang."

“He’s not—"

“Everything looks more innocent with a BB-unit.” Han fixes Poe with a pointed stare. “And you need to hide, so quit wasting time.” 

Rey’s ready. “I can handle Bal—”

“You’re hiding, too, Rey.” 

“I’m not—”

“What about the Rathtar—where are you keeping them?” Finn’s inquiry drowned out Rey’s protests and she’s put out with this guy again. With his funny stares and how he just interrupted her protest. She can take care of herself, and what does it matter if someone from Crimson Dawn knows where she is now? She’ll fight them all off, because nothing will come between her getting to Ben. Not even the whole of the Underworld.

She yelps in shock as there’s another slamming _THUD_ —this time to the wall on her left. 

“There’s one!” Han points beyond Rey, where a large eye or suction cup has appeared and seems to be moving about on a clear screen. “You’re hiding with them, Rey. Keep flyboy from taking off with my ship.” 

Rey sighs, conceding to his request (even though she knows the _Falcon_ ’s systems are still jammed, and Han _knows_ that she knows). This is about more than either of them can adequately express right now. “What are you going to do?” 

“Same thing I always do.” Han shrugs, giving a tug at his pants and utility belt. “Talk myself out of it.”

Chewie gives two grunts in protest, canting his head. 

“Yes, I do! Every time _!”_

It’s far from the truth, but Rey doesn’t argue as she hides herself with Poe and Finn. To his credit, Poe keeps quiet, even as a series of doors hiss open under them. 

“You’re a dead man.” The speaker’s words echo throughout the freighter and Rey feels her stomach clench.

“Bala-Tik. What’s the problem?” 

“The problem is we loaned you 50,000 credits for this job. And we also heard you borrowed 50,000 from Kanjiklub.” 

_Great. Just great_. Han clearly isn’t talking his way out of this one. They go back and forth overhead while Poe and Finn are talking and strategizing. Rey’s lightyears away, though trying not to be— 

“—Tell that to Kanjiklub.”

Another series of doors hiss open, and Rey catches the slight tremor in Han’s voice this time. “Tasu Leech. Good to see you.” 

_Perfect,_ Rey thinks. Two rival gangs and missing Rathtars. At some point she’ll have to process that Ben’s tortured someone—if Poe’s to be believed. She can’t explain why she both hopes he is and isn’t, but it has everything to do with it being the first bit of solid information she’s had about Ben in what feels like ages. She’ll take what she can get at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (OH! There are the knights of Ren out there, officially. Ren is still their leader, Ben is just Kylo and not an official Knight of Ren. They don't make an official appearance, though. And if anyone is curious, yes. Ren, their leader just goes everywhere across the galaxy shirtless. He wears a mask that covers his face and there's an arm band but he is otherwise shirtless while the rest of the knights are completely covered. It's weird. Star Wars sometimes, y'all...)


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUS CW APPLY TO THIS CHAPTER! Please feel free to drop a comment if you want to email for details and to know what to expect in the next couple of chapters. 
> 
> Love always to Frumpologist, QuinTalon, and madi_solo for your tireless love and encouragement and help!!! All remaining errors are my own 
> 
> AND THANKNYOU ALL!!! For following this story for so long and reading and all the amazing comments. I’m blown away 💙💙💙I’m overwhelmed and grateful and blown away. Thank you so much

* * *

This isn’t what he wanted. 

Not ever. Not at all. 

Worlds destroyed. 

_Wolds._

_Destroyed._

Billions of voices—souls, _souls_ —crying out in horror as one, then… 

Silence. Nothing. 

Snuffed out. Wiped from the galaxy. Like they never existed at all. Only they had. They did and they had. For ages before now. Millennia. They’d survived wars, famines, droughts, civil unrest and dispute, adversity and—

_Everything_. 

They’d come through everything the galaxy had thrown at them, come through what they’d brought on themselves… Because it had been entire worlds. _Worlds_. 

No more, though. He’d forced himself to watch as beams of destruction and death fired from Starkiller Base, red streaks flaming across the sky to destroy Hosnian Prime. An entire star system was gone. 

Lotta… the Sabetue even… That damned diner his dad had loved so much. _Mom_ , he almost chokes to himself, clamoring for breath before he remembers she’s not there. She hasn’t been there for ages. She’s with the Resistance, wherever they are. It held some of his happiest memories, though, and now it’s gone. 

It’s where he’d sparred with Rey. Where they’d rested for a night and Rey had kissed his cheek on the ship. Where he’d surprised her with cupcakes of all things. Where they’d crashed a ship in an effort to free slaves.

Damn. Damn, damn, _damn._

He can’t win either way, can he? There’s no escape. He surrenders himself to the Will of the Force and stops running from his destiny at last, only to find he’s a failure of a Dark Side Force User. He’s no longer a walking, breathing, contained storm of destructive energy. He’s a broken shell housing a lost soul. 

He’s doomed to an existence of suffering from this point on, because he can’t be part of _this_. He can’t be on the side of the war that destroys an entire star system. But he can’t escape. There is no escape. His head is heavy and he’s drooping under the weight of his helmet. Under the weight of his guilt. He shouldn’t have run. Shouldn’t have surrendered. 

But he can’t escape. Any ship would be tracked and where would he go? He’s now a target for the Resistance. And where would he go? 

He can’t think beyond this. He can’t hardly move. Snoke saw to that. He hadn’t yet recovered from his punishment at failing to keep the Resistance pilot from escaping and then at failing to recapture him and the droid… Hux and one of the knights had watched in feral glee as Ben suffered his fate in silence. He’d never been more grateful for this meaningless mask… He refused to let _them_ see his pain... 

He’s recovering and trapped; caught between lacking the means of fleeing and the realities of staying. Dad has the _Millennium Falcon_ , and Ben’s… he’s almost glad for it. Which is stupid. It’s a foolish glimmer of happiness, yet still it’s there. It burns in his cold chest, searing something that feels dangerously of hope inside him. 

He can’t hope. He can’t think anything good can come of his dad being directly involved somehow, now. Snoke was very clear as to what he expects Ben to do should he meet his father on Starkiller Base. 

_Should_.

Ben scoffs, because it’s not even a question. Snoke is hoping for this dramatic family reunion, and he knows Ben cannot escape it. Snoke believes his dad will be with any Resistance fighting power in the aftermath of the First Order’s destruction of Hosnian Prime. The foolish self-declared Supreme Leader seems to think Han will come for Ben, and while Ben couldn’t disagree more… Some part of him, some infinitesimal part of him thinks dares to hope. Dares to think that maybe that’s true. 

Maybe he will. He told Ben he regrets not taking him with him before… Maybe he’ll come for Ben this time. 

Ben sucks a sharp breath, fingers tracing over his retractable staff. It’s not lethal as a staff, but there’s a hidden insert, one that conceals a very sharp knife… Ben shudders as his entire being grows cold with quiet contemplation. 

It’s possible… he’s not certain it can penetrate through so many layers… _Maybe it’s time he finds out._

Head bowed and hands clasped behind his back, Ben makes for his private quarters. He has a few outfits to test and destroy.

* * *

They shouldn’t have made it out of there, but they did. Han shouldn’t have tried to make the jump to hyperspace from inside the freighter, but he had and he did. He and Rey spot a compressor on the ignition line, and Han looses a long string of curses at the moof-milker who thought of _that._ It clearly puts too much stress on the hyperdrive and Rey feels the effects of that as they hurl through hyperspace to the Illenium system. 

Back to the base. 

She had to leave her borrowed ship behind, and that frustrates her. She hates owing anyone anything, and now she owes Leia a ship… Maybe Han would permit them use of the _Millennium Falcon,_ and that can make up for the loss—even more so. Rey wasn’t making use of the one loaned to her for Resistance purposes after all…

She decides she owes Finn an apology, too. His staring is ridiculous, but putting herself in his shoes, considering the life of rigidity, structure, uniformity, and _uniforms_ being all he knows up till this point… She’s probably like some creature at an open exhibit, and he’s still figuring out what to make of her. 

The base is in an uproar when they land. It’s a clamoring of chaos and cries and tears, with shrieking calls to action. The base is a flurry of energy, and Rey can’t help but think of a detonator that’s been activated… 

“The First Order destroyed Hosnian Prime.” 

That’s Leia’s way of greeting them. Her expression is grim, and she looks unable to support her own weight. Han closes the gap between them in no time, banding his arms around his… wife. His person. Maybe even still his Leia. It strikes Rey as the most intimate and tenderest of scenes she’s seen the couple exchange, but she can’t look away. It’s a love that defies logic, even the stars themselves. They’re so… they’re broken in so many ways. Their lives seem to no longer fit together, yet still, even now, they reach for each other. 

All for love. 

Chewie gives a mournful howl, and sweeps them both in his wide embrace. 

Poe dashes off with BB-8 and Finn to the main intelligence area. Finn was apparently janitorial staff at Starkiller base, and is now more qualified than anyone else in the Resistance to know how to destroy it. 

Rey thinks this is all insanity. The First Order can destroy an entire star system in one mighty blow, and a former janitor can help a rag-tag group of amature fighters destroy it. _Impossible_. She needs to find Ben, take him far away from anywhere they’ll be easily recognized in the galaxy. 

But… Poe says he was tortured by Ben.

Maybe that means Ben has changed. Maybe he no longer wants Rey. He left her before—maybe that was his way of telling her he’ll never want her.

The clatter of the base around her suddenly dims, muting until it’s silent, and she’s no longer standing just outside of the _Falcon_. She’s in a room. In stark and neat sleeping quarters with shiny black walls.

And she’s not alone. 

“Hi.”

He’s startled by her greeting, but that’s fair. She’s had this dream hundreds of times now. Sometimes he’s surprised to see her and other times, the best of times, he’s taking her in his arms and kissing her and kissing her and _kissing her._

This isn’t one of those times, though. And it’s strange she should be dreaming while awake and standing on her own two feet on solid ground. 

He cants his head at her. “You—you can see me?” 

“Of course I can.” The silly nerko… Or whatever her subconscious is telling her to remember of him right here and now. “But that's because you’re not real. This is another dream.” 

“Dream?” 

“Yeah.” A wry, sad smile quirks at the corner of her lips. She doesn’t know where this one is going, but she’ll play along. “Did you think I wouldn’t dream of you?” 

“I… I didn’t want to presume.” He looks lost, deeply lost and so full of pain and anguish that it squeezes at her heart. This is not the Ben she remembers. “I dream of you, too,” he adds, so soft it seems to almost be an apology. “I miss you even when I don’t have any right to.” 

“I miss you, too. Which is silly, I know.” Rey gives a thick swallow, hoping it will do something against the lump in her throat. “You left me at the clinic without even saying goodbye. Without giving me a chance to talk you out of it, or tell you I’m going with you. I should be angry. I should be furious still.” 

He licks his lips and steps closer, and she’s powerless to explain why that should make her heart pound so. “Are you not? Angry that is.” 

“Yes and no.” Her hand twitches and she balls it into a fist, bringing it up to hold it to her chest. “I think, knowing all you’ve come through and all you’ve suffered, I know enough to know it wasn’t all your fault. That you were cornered into thinking that was your only option. It still hurts that you made that decision for both of us without talking to me, though. We were partners.” 

“I know. For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.” 

_I’m sorry_. Those words ring hollow in her chest, because this isn’t real. Ben’s not really hear apologizing to her. It’s the conversation she wishes to have more than anything. Han and Leia have each other. Chewie’s gone with them. Poe and Finn have gone to be of some importance and use to the Resistance, and even BB-8 has rolled off with them. She should go find Geegee for someone other than herself to talk to. 

But she’s not ready to let this go. Not yet. 

“I’m sorry, too,” she finds herself murmuring. 

His brow furrows and she’s confused this dream version of him. “What in the blazes do you have to be sorry for?” 

“Lots of things.” She shrugs, ignoring the fact her heart is now bashing and crashing against its’ bony cage. It’s hard to breathe, but if she can’t tell him these things yet, she can at least admit them to herself. “I should have kissed you and held you close when we shared your bed. I should have told you all you mean to me. I shouldn’t have forgotten about the bounty hunter who had the blaster to your head, because then you wouldn’t have had to try to get me back. You wouldn’t have given into the Force so.” 

“I think…” His head bobs as he considers this. “I think if not then, it would have happened another time regardless. I think even if I’d spent all my life on the run, he would have always found me. And I would always wonder if he was right. If this had been my destiny all along.” 

“Do you still believe it is?” 

“No.” Dream-Ben moves to sit on what appears to be a bench, or a cot. A very uncomfortable looking cot and this is… strange. Yeah. She’s really doing a number on herself with this dream, and perhaps there is something in what Qi’ra says about the negative effects of dreams after all… 

Dream-Ben threads his fingers together, his shirt pulled taut and tight across the broad expanse of his shoulders, chest, and back _—kriff_. She thought she’d forgotten precisely how corded and muscular he is. It’s ridiculous how she’s distracting herself from…well, _herself_. Dream-Ben says, “I think my destiny all along was you, and I’m sad I’ve missed out on it now.” 

“You haven’t.” 

“It’s too late for me, Rey.” 

Her name. It’s a prayer, a regret. A note of salvation. It moves her to the point of hot tears welling in her eyes. They scald her eyelids. “It’s not. I promise you, Ben. It isn’t too late. I’ll find you. I’ll help you.” It burns that she isn’t really telling _him_ this… But maybe in renewing her vow to herself, maybe in some way… Ben could feel it. Maybe Ben could know the depth and sincerity of feelings. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” He gives a sad looking shake of his head, his hair disheveled and… flat…? It’s different than she’s ever seen it before, and definitely not as it’s been in previous dreams. “You should be off having adventures, not trapped in memory of me.”

“I don’t want adventures without you. They’re dull and empty without my partner.” 

“Do you mean it?” His smile is hesitant. Tentative. _Shy_. 

It sparks her heart to beat impossibly faster. “Of course I do—and not just because Geegee doesn’t listen to me like he does you.” 

That triggers a snort from Dream-Ben, even as Rey starts to question if this is really just a dream. It’s too interactive. 

But. What else can it be? 

“Do you keep Geegee with you?” dream-slash-possibly-vision-slash-Force intervention-Ben queries. 

“Some.” Rey licks her lips again, taking two steps nearer. Maybe if he’ll talk long enough, she can figure this out. “Leia insists on keeping him at the base more often than I would like. She hopes his combined presence with her protocol droid will help stimulate her brother’s astromech, R2-D2.” 

He snorts at that. “Doubtful, though, I’m surprised he didn’t take that little guy with him. Artoo’s been with Uncle Luke since just before he joined the Rebellion. Should I take that to mean you’re with the Resistance now?” 

“I’m with no one,” she snaps, and that’s not fair. She’s not accusing herself of anything, and whatever version of Ben this is—he doesn’t seem to be accusing either. She takes a fortifying breath, steeling her nerves, floating a hand up to touch her braid that wraps around her head. “I’m on my own until I find you. It’s just delivery runs. Same as before.” 

“Before.” It’s a whisper, as if he isn't aware he’s spoken. Like he’s all caught up in something—in gazing at her. If this isn’t some faximale of Ben… well, she’s doing a damned good job of fantasizing. His eyes _burn_. They send a rush of tingles everywhere they roam. “You’re so beautiful. I hadn’t forgotten, but it’s different from my dreams. Stars, I wish I were holding you and telling you this.” 

She. Can’t. _Breathe._

Can’t think beyond _this._

Beyond chancing another step closer, to see. 

To _know_...

_Don’t wake up,_ she tells herself, and decides now would be a good time to pray to any diety that may be listening. To the Force itself. _Let me see, let me keep him here with me a little longer. Let him be real._

“We just—we heard about Hosnian Prime.” Her voice is watery and shaky and she hates the tremble in her jaw, but it can’t be helped right now. This is… it’s the closest she’s come to him in nearly a year and she’s going to cry. She’s ached for want and longing and now… _Now_ … She gulps a shallow breath, grasping for something to add. “And Poe—Poe says you—”   
  
“Dameron? The pilot?” His posture snaps up, and everything about him transforms. His lip curls into a snarl, and he— _kriff_ . He appears every bit the brooding and jealous nerf-herder. “What’s Dameron to you?” 

“Someone I know, Ben.” She flexes her fingers, undecided if she should risk it all. “Not you. He’s not you. He’s not my partner. There’s only you.” 

He presses his lips into a thin line and her heart sinks. She’s losing him—she can feel it. It’s more a growl than anything when he responds. “You should forget all about me.” 

“I can’t.” _I won’t_. “There can never be anyone for me but you, Ben.” 

She acts fast, lunging for where he’s sitting—

Hoping against hope that she’ll crash into the hard plains of his chest—

That his strong arms will wind around her—

Nothing. 

She passes through air… and… “Ben?” 

She whirls around, looking even further beyond her surroundings, but he’s gone. 

He’s vanished from view and she’s aware of her surroundings again. She can hear all the talk going on around her. 

But that does nothing to slow the racing of her heart. 

_Ben_. She’d been talking to _Ben_. 

Not a dream. Not a fantasy. 

The Force hums around her, a soft symphony that’s… guiding. It’s full of Light. Of life and hope. 

And knows what she must do. 

* * *

“HAN! CHEWIE!” 

Rey’s yelling and running. She’s aware she’s making a scene, people all around the Resistance are stopping to stare at her—they’ll likely think her even more peculiar than they already do. There’s a high probability that the sight of Rey sprinting across the base at top speed, the pins of her braid coming loose and falling so that her braid flags behind, her shiny boots and bold trouser outfit is one of the most unique sights they’ll have seen recently, and even more likely is that she’ll be the main source of gossip and laughter for days, weeks, maybe months to come. 

Pirates, smugglers, and bounty hunters are no different. 

At one point in time, that would have mattered to Rey. It would have mattered that she keep calm and composed as she went in search of the pilot and co-pilot of the _Millennium Falcon._ It doesn’t anymore—not when she’s seen Ben. 

_She saw Ben_. Clear and solid. 

It wasn’t a dream—she’d felt the impressions of him, his thoughts, his anguish and yearnings. He’d left an imprint on the space near her in such a tangible and palpable way, it was like she could wrap it around her as a blanket of courage. 

She bears it proudly now. 

Ben’s _alive._ He’s sorry and he misses her. It was the Force that brought them together, and the Force will guide them back to each other.

Now all that’s left is to find Han, convince him to fly her to wherever Ben might be, and figure out how to rescue him… And hopefully not have to face down Snoke in the process. She _knows_ she’s not ready for that… It’s been too long since she’s properly trained… But maybe... once he’s safely at her side, they can find a way of training to help him break free for good. 

No. There is no maybe. They _will_. 

But first things first: burst into a strategy briefing and volunteer herself to whatever mission will get her to where he is. 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *deep breaths*  
> Hope you all enjoy! Content warning for thoughts of self-harm, but I hope you all like the end of the chapter. 💙💙💙thank you for reading and being there and all your support coming this far!!! It means the world to me! 
> 
> Love and more gratitude than I can express to Frumpologist, QuinTalon, and madi_solo.💙💙you ladies mean more than I can express.

* * *

_There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace._

Rey can’t recall the rest of that insipid code—just what Ben used to repeat to himself. And the last line: _There is no death, there is the Force_. 

She can’t think like that right now, though. Death is not an option, not for Ben, and not for her. He’s been a slave longer than she has, and she’ll be damned if he doesn’t live the rest of his life in fullness and happiness. He’ll lack for nothing if she has any say in it—which she says she does. There will be no death today. 

That goes for Han and Chewie. And herself. 

She may not remember all of the Code, but she remembers the day Ben taught it to her. It sounded like a lot of Bantha Fodder then. She’d promptly told him that, too, but it seems even more ridiculous now. The peace isn’t the absence of emotion, but rather the harmony of presiding emotions. 

Yes, she’s scared to be flying directly into the heart of the machine-slash-planet that destroyed all of Hosnian Prime, but she’s also brimming with courage. She’s intent on her goal, fixed in her purpose. She’s angry with Ben and his thick head for making this choice for her, but she’s already forgiven him and wants him with her. She needs him with her. He’s like… proper atmospheric conditions: necessary for her survival, and without him, she’s left interacting with the galaxy in an altered state in order to go on. 

She’s back behind a mask of herself. He helps her live beyond the mask. 

So, yes. Rey would say she’s at peace as she sits in the cockpit on the _Millennium Falcon_ on the way to Starkiller Base. She’s occupying the chair behind Han while Finn sit’s nervously behind Chewie, rapidly tapping his thumb over his leg. 

“Out with it, kid,” Han says, looking over his shoulder to Finn. “Still another half hour in hyperspace and it’s either been your foot tapping or your hand tapping every time you sit down.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” Finn’s eyes meet Han’s and slide to Rey. “It’s… it’s nothing.” 

“It’s obviously something,” Rey counters. “If it’s something about the mission, something you’re afraid of with it, we should know.” 

Finn’s quick to snap at her. “It’s not the mission!” A little too quick for Rey to believe, but whatever. If he wants to be that way…

He sighs. “It’s just, ah… I think I made a bad impression when we met, Rey. And then my outburst that you shouldn’t come with us. To the base for this mission. We can add all the explosives we need, and I only meant you could stay safe with the command team.” 

“I don’t believe that for an instant,” Rey says, her mood souring once again because _this guy_. She stifles the urge to roll her eyes, because New Guy wants to call some shots and tell her what to do. “But since you’re not in the mood for the truth, dodge it all you like with that nonsense.” 

“I’ve never met a girl before! At least, not one outside of uniforms and armor, and you’re pretty and you’re not with the Resistance Poe says, so you shouldn’t be risking your life for something like this. You should take another job and run far away and stay safe.”

Huh. 

Chewie and Han visibly stiffen, and suddenly seem _very_ interested in the main control panel. Actually, Han’s still very keen on that compressor, and Rey hasn’t told him yet she thinks he could simply bypass it for now. But now she has to deal with _this_. 

She takes a sharp breath. “If you think about it, none of the four of us are technically with the Resistance. The Rebel Alliance was full of volunteers who could come and go at will, too. I have my own reasons for being here, same as you.” 

“I…” Finn doesn’t seem to have an immediate response to that and good. Rey’s not interested in his nosy, probing questions… except Finn opens his mouth. “Sorry.” 

“What am I looking for once we land?” Han asks and Rey could just hug him for that. Whys don’t matter to Han, except in the case of Ben, but even then… it’s pushing it for him.

  
“Flooding tunnels,” Finn says. “We can get in through drains from there.” 

Curious. Rey had missed this part in the briefing. “How does a sanitation Stormtrooper know how to disable the shields?” 

“I don’t.” 

Han’s chair swivels around while Rey stands from her seat, both of them releasing angry, disbelieving outcries. 

“Hey, hey!” Finn lifts his hands, as in some form of surrender. “It’ll be okay, right? You’re Resistance and used to improvising. We’ll get there and figure it out. We’ll use the Force.” 

Han’s incredulous. “That’s not how the Force works!” 

Rey narrows her eyes, thinking that a solid cup of tea would be the best use of her time before they land. Finn’s eyes dart between her and Han, obviously figuring out he’s on dangerous ground. 

“Poe helped me. I needed to find a way to help him back,” he admits, dropping his gaze, his voice lowering to a mumble, too. “And Rey was determined to come. I wanted to help her, too.” 

“Get the shields lowered. Help set the explosives.” Rey’s words are ice, but she’s still at peace. Here’s someone who hasn’t been allowed to have adventures or call his own shots. He’s taken orders all his life, and isn’t used to having choices yet. “I’m making tea if anyone else would like some before we land.” 

She’s out of the cockpit in one sweeping motion, Chewie moaning that Han would like a cup for his nerves. Rey doesn’t disagree. 

Harmony. 

Admitting her fear, yet carrying on in courage. 

_There is peace._

* * *

The Force is a wild, frustrated symphony, playing and blaring note after note at a dizzying pace around Ben. 

He’s following Snoke’s orders, coming here to Starkiller Base alone. The Knights of Ren have been ordered elsewhere in the galaxy for now—likely to keep from being any sort of back up or assistance to Ben. He’s supposed to be here to finally earn a kyber crystal, only to make it bleed for his new lightsaber. 

He knows what he’s ordered, what needs to be done if he’s to take another step towards the Dark Side.

He doesn’t want to do it. 

His face is drawn and tight under his mask. It’s almost impossible to breathe right now. It’s hard to focus to think straight right now, and meditating in this maelstrom of energy won’t help. He’s only entering into the eternal battle of the two sides of the Force if he does, and he has his own problems to deal with. 

Problems and questions. 

Questions over the fact he saw Rey. 

_He._ _Saw. Her._

Just as clearly as anyone standing with him, talking to him. The Force had connected them, then and there. It had been… curious. Very curious. He couldn’t see any of her surroundings, just her. He’d wanted to ask her if she could see anything of his… Not that there’s much to see in his sleeping quarters on his ship. 

She’d wanted to talk to him, though. She’d told him it wasn’t too late. He permits a dark chuckle at that. _If only she knew_. 

It was. It _is_. 

If Han Solo indeed comes to join whatever it is the Resistance plans to do, Ben’s already a dead man walking. Neither Ben Solo nor Kylo have enough anger or energy to take his father’s life.

The Dark Side is too murky, too cloudy and frantic. It’s a haunting cackle of energy, speaking too many things at once to Ben—none of which Ben’s interested in listening to. He’s tired of taking orders and complying with actions that make him heave and swallow back his own bile. He’s tired of following along, only to be punished at the slightest perception of failure. He’s tired of nothing ever being enough and always needing to be tested. 

He’s tired of his burden of guilt and shame. 

He’s done with it all. 

Maybe he hopes his dad does show up after all. If the Force wants to be a swirling storm inside and around him, he’ll fit in just fine _with_ the Force…

* * *

“BEN!” 

His name echoes around the chamber and he stops. 

This is it. 

_This is it._

He’d sent several Stormtroopers aboard the _Millennium Falcon_ under the guise of searching, but he’d already felt no one was on board. He wanted the memories, one last time. Once more to bask in what had been his childhood. The golden dice still hung from the top of the cockpit, the ones he remembers batting his little hands at when Chewie or his dad would hold him up… 

Rey’s here, too. Her mark in the Force is strong, and he senses… purpose. She’s here for a reason. “ _It isn’t too late. I’ll find you. I’ll help you.”_ She’d promised him all of mere hours ago in their Force connection… That oh-so-dangerous hope burrows itself deeper in his chest, but he’s trying to ignore it. He was jealous just before they were disconnected; he was slammed back to his own space with the knowledge he’d acted as a jealous (or scorned) lover, telling her to forget all about him. 

She obviously didn’t listen, and he thinks she wouldn’t be Rey, _his_ Rey… the one he loves if she had… 

But Dad is stepping onto the bridge right now. A bridge without any sort of railing, and it’s a long drop should either of them fall. Ben’s going to make sure Dad won’t. He’ll shove him all the way back to the other side if he has to.

Hope is wasted on him right now. It’s too late. 

Ben turns, accepting his fate; acknowledging this is the Will of the Force. His birth stoked and stirred too much darkness, and everything became unbalanced. It’s clear to him now that only in his death can there be balance again.

_There is no death, there is the Force._

Stormtroopers have their blasters aimed, but they’re nothing. Ben’s prepared to snatch their weapons in a moment’s notice to protect his father… The Force churns and bubbles… It’s intoxicating, accepting the calling of one’s own death. 

“Han Solo,” he says. “I’ve been waiting for this day.” _Liar._

—and yet… 

It’s happened at last. His father has come for him. For the first time in Ben’s immediate memory, his father has come _to_ him. He’s come _for_ Ben. 

And he’s scared. 

Ben senses Dad’s fear. Fear for his son. Fear he won’t know what to say or worse, that he’ll get it wrong when he does speak. Fear that he’s inadequate to help his son… He walks out onto the bridge still, in spite of the fears. Regardless of the churning of emotion Ben senses as if they were his own. They mirror what Ben knows to be true of himself: _weak, unwanted, unloved failure with one last chance of getting it right._

“Take off that mask,” Dad says, still walking towards Ben. “You don’t need it.” 

_I do, though,_ Ben thinks. _I’ve always needed it with you. I scared you and you ran away from me. And one job together wasn’t enough to fix that. You let me go when part of me wished you wouldn’t._

Ben swallows the words. None of this will do either of them any good. Banter. Ben needs distracting, deflecting banter. “What do you think you’ll see if I do?” 

“The face of my son.” Dad’s voice is thick, choked with such visceral emotions, Ben wants to crash to his knees to the bridge. He’s never known his dad to… to… _feel_ —another lie. Han Solo has felt a great many things deeply. It’s all Ben once knew of his father at such a young age. In spite of the stoic air he would try to give off, Dad always feels too deep, and gets himself into situations he probably shouldn’t, because of said feelings. 

Ben’s going to try to teach him that lesson before… well, just before. He hasn’t worked out the details yet. Only that it’s time for him to shut down again. He doesn’t want Snoke in his mind right now. He doesn’t want to feel if his own father will mourn the moment Ben dies.

 _There is no emotion, there is peace_. 

He takes his time, staring down his father before reaching his hands to the mask. The opening mechanism joins the echoing clatter about the facility; he doesn’t look to study any of it. It’s probably more troopers anyways. He slams his mask against the bridge and looks upon his father with unveiled eyes. 

He wants to cry, but he won’t. He _won’t_. 

Dad’s face is even more brimming as Ben studies him. It’s like he’s aged a decade in the last year. 

_I’m sorry, Dad_. “Your son is gone.” _I’m so sorry. Leave. Now_. _Please._ “He was weak and foolish, like his father. He couldn’t outrun his own destiny, so I surrendered him to the Will of the Force.” 

“That’s what Snoke wants you to believe, but it’s not true.” Dad walks on, closing the gap between them in easy steps. “My son is alive. He’s right here and I’ve come for him.” 

_Foolish nerf-herder._ Ben shakes his head. “No. You’ve only fallen for the Supreme Leader’s plans.” 

“Snoke is using you. He only wants you for your power. When he gets what he wants, he’ll crush you. You know it’s true.” 

He’s close now— _too_ close. Ben steps back as his father moves forward. What he’s hearing… it’s not that he believes it to be _untrue._ He’s suspected it in the aftermath of every scalding, torturous punishment. Whenever Snoke reverts to mocking Ben for running, intimidating him to admit he should have come to him right when Luke tried to kill him… Ben’s thought if there had been ulterior motives behind that. If what he means is that he can’t use Ben as readily as he wants now. 

Because Ben’s changed. 

He’s not the same angry and uncertain man from six years ago. Exhaustion creeps into his bones, and it’s time.

It’s so close to being over now. 

“It’s too late,” Ben says, allowing the sorrow to consume his words. Hoping that would be enough.

“No it’s not.” Han’s close enough to grasp him by the arms now, by the shoulders for an embrace. How Ben wishes he could feel his father’s arms around him. One last time. Dad continues, “Come home with me. We miss you.” 

Ben chooses. 

He reaches out, one last time—

 _Love_. He feels the love of his parents for their son. He feels their anguish and grief. He feels how they’ve been wrenched apart because of him. _He’s_ the reason his parents’ lives are ruined. Are in turmoil. And yet… they still want him. Dad’s pleading for him to leave. To run away and come with him. Come home. 

_Yes_! Something deep inside Ben lurches up and _screams_ It shouts in agreement, urging Ben to take his father’s hand now and _go_. To flee all of this. Now. And forever more.

Ben’s jaw trembles. “I’m being torn apart. I want to be free of this pain.”

Tears scald his eyes, and once again, the truth hurts. It burns because he’s in agony. The Force roils and screams around him, but he can’t run. He knows he can’t run. Snoke will find him. He’ll always find Ben, and the cycle will begin again. But what if someone truly dies the next time, because Ben can’t shut Snoke out? What if he loses control again? He can’t go. There is no other way.

“I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it. Will you help me?” 

“Yes. Anything.” His father is there, right _there_ , and Ben catches a whiff of fuel, mechanical oil, and leather. There’s the hint of something spicy… and floral. 

_Mom._ How nice it is to know he has both parents with him, to give him strength and peace as he makes this sacrifice for them. 

_And Rey_. 

Emotion claws at his throat, choking him as he stifles back a cry. He will miss Rey most of all he thinks. He’ll miss the life he’d wanted to live out with her. 

_It’s too late_ , he reminds himself, reaching for the retractable staff at his belt. He thinks of outfits he slashed to ribbons earlier to test the depth of the blade’s penetration. It’ll suffice for his needs. Ben will hopefully fall to his death before his dad can try anything noble and foolish. 

He holds the staff out, letting Han Solo believe he means to toss it to the abyss below. He flicks his thumb over the blade's release, his dad too focused on his face to notice.

 _There is no death, there is the Force._

* * *

“ _No.”_ Rey’s choking on her own outcry, the wicked metallic blade gleaming and glinting in the red lights. Finn’s gone still beside her, his indecision bubbling in the Force around her, but Rey’s focus is on the blade. The sharp blade Ben’s pointing at himself. She can’t figure out how Han doesn’t _see._

How he doesn’t _know_ what Ben’s about to _do._

Only Ben can’t do that. He _can’t_. They’ve come too far to be too late. 

It wouldn’t end here. It _couldn’t_. 

_Peace._

The Force connected her and Ben in a new way to show her how to help him—

—but she’s too far away. He’s all the way down there. So far away and Rey’s still not confident in her summoning. And Ben’s on an open bridge without railing. It’s a miracle he hasn’t fallen already, just from noting the unease in his gait. He walks as a man wearied by all the burdens of the galaxy… 

_Peace_. 

Han steps closer and brings his hand to his son’s cheek. 

_Peace_. 

Ben smiles, a sad sort of exhausted smile that shatters Rey’s heart into a thousand pieces and—

“NOOOO!” She yells, yanking her hand out—

—summoning, pulling, and commanding with all her strength—

—focusing her every thought on the lightsaber in Ben’s grasp—

 _THWACK!_

It collides with her hand, the blade centimeters from Finn’s face. 

“Hey, what the—” 

“ _Rey_?!” 

“Rey!”

“ _Ben_!”

There’s no time for Finn’s indignation or Han’s relief. There’s no time to process the shock, relief and the maelstrom of other emotions Ben seems to be feeling right now. It’ll all have to wait until after they make it out of here alive—they _better_ make it out of here alive, because she’s still not accepting death as an option. 

A blast errupts near her head and she ducks for cover, dropping the staff and whipping out her blaster in one smooth, easy motion. She shoots at anyone in white her eye finds. Han is holding onto Ben and they’re sort of half-running, half-walking off the bridge. Together. 

Ben looks ridiculous in those billowing robes, but he’s taken Han’s hand and he’s choosing safety. He’s choosing life over death. Rey can choose to not laugh at whatever insanity he’s had to wear for the past year while under the command of a new master. 

A pained shout comes from below, but Rey can’t see who’s been shot because Chewie takes it upon himself to bellow and growl and shoot that bowcast in rapid succession. Stormtroopers fall and Finn’s unease is evident near her—

“Get out of here, Rey!”

She scoffs at the man she loves. He really is a dummy sometimes. “I’m not leaving without you!” 

“No, it’s—” _CLANG! FTZZZ!! SIZZLE! CLANG!_ “—Gimme your blaster, Dad!” 

Han grunts back something Rey can’t hear, but she catches Ben swearing and yelling they’re not leaving him. A spray of shots erupt from under her, and she decides Han must be the one injured. That he’s trusted Ben with his blaster after all. The one to trust Ben to not try anything stupid. _Again_. 

“Cover us, Chewie! Dad’s been shot. We need to get him to the _Falcon_!” 

Understanding floods Rey and she fires two, three, more shots. Ben and Han’s safety is all that matters; she’ll deal with the aftermath of Finn having to watch his former comrades getting shot later. “Come on,” she nudges at Finn, crawling towards the door. She focuses on the control panel. 

Pressing down on the button with the Force… 

It opens with a hiss, cold air blasting Rey in the face as she rises to her feet and _runs_ . She races to get to the lower level, sprinting and nearly falling and tumbling through the snow.   
  
“Rey! That was Kylo! Kylo’s got Han!” Finn’s almost caught up to her and she tosses him a look over her shoulder. 

“I know,” she says, doubling down and running harder. 

Ben. Kylo. 

Whatever the name, it doesn’t matter. 

He’s the son of Han and Leia, and Han proved nothing could ever change that. Not to them. 

And Ben’s hers. _Hers._ She’s his and he’s hers, and he’s never allowed to doubt that again. 

She’s breathless and gasping reaching Ben, Han, and Chewie. Ben’s wrapped an arm around the underside of Han’s shoulders, propping is dad’s arm over his. He’s looking back and firing Han’s blaster, so it’s Chewie that sees Rey first. Han does next and flashes a pained smile. Chewie takes Han, growling something that gets lost in the raging wind, and Ben’s face jerks around, as if to protest that he can carry his father—

—Then he sees Rey. 

Flyaways whip around her head and she’s stock still under his piercing gaze. It’s inconceivable that she starts to wonder if her braids going to come loose again. 

_Oh well._

She’ll have to put it back up for Ben to take it down later, because she’s running again. 

Running until she’s close enough to launch herself at Ben. She throws herself into his arms, one hand fisting at the impractical nonsense that’s this outer robe, wishing for more than one reason that she could tear it from his body. She needs to touch _him_ , to feel _him_. 

They need to be as close to skin on skin as possible—

“ _Rey.”_ His voice is strangled and watery. So broken she can’t bear it. 

“Ben.” She nuzzles her cheek to his and brings her other hand to his hair, threading her fingers through his thick, silky locks. It’s every bit as soft as she imagined and remembers. “My love, my Ben.” 

He shivers against her, and she knows it’s not from the cold. She _knows_ it isn’t because he starts to melt… To bend forward as she arches and bows back. She withdraws her face, carefully, aching as he whimpers from the loss of her touch. 

“ _My_ Ben,” she murmurs again, bringing both hands to his face, cupping his cheeks with her hands. 

And just in case he doesn’t quite catch what she means, she presses her lips to his, hard and firm, thumbs stroking along the lines of his cheek to convey all the gentleness that’s lacking in her first kiss. 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* almost done <3  
> I can't believe it and hope you all enjoy this. I could never say thank you enough for reading and then all the lovely and thoughtful comments on top of that. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> My endless love to madi_solo and QuinTalon and Frumpologist for your love and encouragement and help with making this story what it is <3 I'm beyond thankful to you wonderful ladies.

* * *

He’s being kissed. It’s his first kiss and it’s…

It kinda hurts. 

Not that he’s about to stop her or complain. It’s actually something that’s a little bit miraculous and wonderful—being alive and kissing Rey. For a fleeting moment he wonders if this is still her first; it’s exquisite, if so. The hold of her mouth against his is sensually firm and she’s not taking no for an answer. Ben couldn’t have pulled away if he wanted to—not that he does. 

Only a fool would spurn such a kiss, and Ben doesn’t consider himself a fool. 

In addition to the hard pressing of lips to lips, Rey is stroking up and down his cheekbones with her thumbs. It’s tender and gentle and somehow makes the kiss that much more dizzying. Ben wants to play a more active role in the kiss, would _love_ to find all the ways that would make her moan, sigh, and keen, but, for the moment, he’s not able to do much more apart from hold her tighter, bring her closer to his chest and nuzzle into her. His nose brushes over her cheek and he thinks he hears one of those deliciously coveted sounds, and he… 

Yeah. 

He likes it. Maybe she’ll relax some—

Blasters fire from behind him, into the snow near his feet. He can feel their melting heat though this ridiculous overrobe...

“Any chance you two hold the foreplay until we’ve escaped?” 

Oh. Yeah… Dad’s hurt. And Dad’s angry. He’s already told Ben as much. “ _Don’t you ever try to_ — _never again, Ben_. _Never again_.” He makes his vow to his dad as they struggle against the wind and snow coming outside, and Ben somehow knows that could very well be the end of it if his dad never asks about it again. And something tells him Dad may very well leave it thus: that Ben survived the lowest of the low points of his life because of the miracle of Rey—and Dad—and that’s all that will matter to Han Solo. 

Rey releases from her hold, somehow already positioned herself at his back. They’re back to back and Ben’s without any means of helping or firing back, but he’s not sure he can move any ways—Rey’s holding tight to his thigh with one of her small hands, a vice-like grip that says more than, “you’re leverage to keep me standing.” It’s a hold that feels a lot like, “I still don’t believe you’re _here_ ,” and “you’re not leaving me ever again.”

Chewie’s growling, trying to turn and fire back with his dad’s blaster, but that only makes Dad yowl in pain. 

“Hang on, hang on!” Dad yelps. “Chewie’s gotta be able to shoot that bowcaster. Finn, you c’mon.” 

It should be embarrassing that it’s only now Ben notices there’s someone else with them. A young man almost as tall and wearing all black, save for a leather jacket that looks familiar...

“FN-2187,” he says, blankly with a curt nod. “From Jakuu.” 

The male eyes him wearily even as he ducks from a high blaster laser. “I go by Finn now, Kylo.” 

Ben’s about to tell him he prefers Ben, but Chewie looses a fierce sound and shoves his dad back into Ben’s arms. 

“Ow! Easy, Chewie!” Dad barks, glaring at no one in particular. “Can we get back to the ship while we still have a chance now?” 

“Finn!” Rey snaps. “You and Ben help Han. Chewie and I can cover us.” 

It’s not the plan Ben’s most fond of—Dad gripes and complains the whole way back to the _Falcon_ —but there’s not much to be done about that. Ben’s occasionally able to twist his head around and shove against several Stormtroopers with the Force, and at one point he tries to elevate his Dad’s legs out to make him easier to hold, but Dad swears his protests to that loudly. 

“None of that Force hold on me, kid. _Ever_.” 

“Right, Dad. I remember now.” 

They shouldn’t make it to the ship alive, but they do. There shouldn’t be functioning medkits and pacs aboard the ship, but there are—because Rey had the forethought to bring several with them for the Resistance base. Ben shouldn’t be alive right now, but he is. He _is_ and some part of him has never been happier. 

He’s about to pilot the _Millennium Falcon_ , the ship Dad loves more than almost everyone and everything else in all the galaxy… Almost. A small collection of sentients may rank higher, but not many.   
  
Rey’s tending to Dad while Ben and Chewie slip into pilot and co-pilot seats. Chewie grunts and brings one of his massive paws to Ben’s head, ruffling his hair. 

“Thanks,” Ben says, face warming under the affectionate gesture. 

Heavy footfalls sound from behind and their newcomer is gasping. “We have to go help the fleet.” 

Chewie’s growling and shaking his head in the negative, causing Ben to arc an eyebrow as he eyes… Finn. 

“Is assistance to the fleet part of your mission?” he asks with an air of commanding authority that he likely has no right to use, but he doesn’t care. Snoke senses something’s gone wrong, that his plans have been foiled, and Ben’s expended more energy than he’s had in a long time locking Snoke out of his mind. And besides, he only has one mission now: keep the ones he loves safe. 

That doesn’t automatically equate to “helping the fleet.”

Rey yells from the common area, “NO!” while Finn tries to explain and play hero, and Chewie explains their plan to Ben all the while. 

“Right,” Ben nods at Chewie, licking his lips. “Let’s get outta here and back to your base then. Tell me when she’s ready to make the jump, and I’ll fly us low over the treeline.” 

Ben can feel FN— _Finn’s_ —silent stubborn protesting, but he’s not changing his mind. The objectives of the team members aboard the _Millennium Falcon_ were to lower the shields of Starkiller base and create chaos and destruction wherever possible. 

Mission accomplished. 

A pained outburst and the clattering of metal on metal thankfully sends Finn back to the common area and out of the cockpit. “That hurts!” Dad accuses. 

“If you’d stop being a kriffing whiny piece of Bantha fodder and just _hold still_ —” 

Chewie grunts something and Ben shakes his head. “They got him. We’re getting us _gone_.”

Chewie huffs and in no time at all alerts Ben they’re ready to make the jump. 

It’s surreal. A dream come true. A grace Ben’s confident he doesn’t deserve, but it’s given to him nonetheless—like Rey’s kiss. 

The _Millenium Falcon_ makes the jump to hyperspace from her low hover over trees, and Ben thinks Dad’s right in his obsessive love for this ship. She’s something special, and truly one of a kind.

* * *

“You’re not doing anything of—”

“She’s my ship,” Han argues, “And I’m well enough to sit upright.” 

“But you’re in no condition to pilot,” Rey counters. 

“Hyperspace kid. And for the next several hours, I might add. You want some privacy with my son or not?” 

Oh. 

_Oh._

“You mean…?” 

“I mean you can use the common area to talk or there’s some private quarters over that way.” Han’s voice is gruff and he jerks his head in the direction he means instead of releasing hold of his leg. But Rey understands. She knows what he’s offering up, and is thankful for it. 

Still, she can’t let him off that easy. “Can’t stand to have anyone else flying your ship while you’re onboard, can you?” she asks with a wink. 

“Nope.” With several grunts and a bit of assistance from Rey, Han limps and winces his way to the cockpit. Finn rises from his chair behind Chewie, but Han waves him back down. 

“I could use some tea, kid.” Han’s eyes are fixed on Ben. “Think you could show Rey where everything is?” 

“You honestly expect everything to be as it was in the galley from years ago?” 

“Yep.” 

Rey can only roll her eyes as father and son stare each other down, communicating with each other in silent code. She’s about ready to explain what’s really going on to her thick-headed nerko when Finn jumps up from his seat. 

“I could use something, too.” He looks between Rey and Ben. “You guys coming to help?” 

Ugh. Well then. He’ll have to be tolerated for a little while, she supposes. Ben looks about like she feels as they walk around each other and trade off spots in the cockpit. The saving grace to her now bubbling temper is that Han shouts that Finn better be back soon with his tea—and something to eat, if it looks edible. 

“You Solo men.” Rey murmurs, shaking her head and winding an arm around Ben’s waist. “You’ll eat anything as long as the expiration date is still good.” 

“Waste not,” Ben answers with a shrug… And after a splinter of a moment’s hesitation, a kiss to her braided crown, piled around her head. 

Her cheeks flame in the best possible way and she cuddles herself closer to Ben—at least, she _tries_ to. This outerrobe thing is thick and heavy. And it’s honestly an insane fashion choice if Snoke wanted Ben to be able to perform at his best… Rey suspects that may not have been the case, though. 

“So… Kylo…?” Finn asks, almost hesitantly. No, strike that. He’s afraid, Rey senses his fear and knows Ben must, too. It’s a splash of something cold over the warmth she just felt from her tender moment with Ben (with _Ben_! The Force allowed her to do what she’d set out to do…!)

“That was my alias as a smuggler—”

“You mean delivery guy,” Rey interjects, poking Ben teasingly around the ribs. “We mostly did delivery runs together, partner.” 

“Semantics,” he drawls, eyeing her with a look that she hopes means she’ll pay for her cheek sooner or later. She hopes it’s sooner. “Snoke wanted to wipe Ben Solo from my memory, and the name Kylo apparently represented a combination of failure and inescapability to him—which is why he used it and instructed everyone else to do likewise.” 

Finn’s silent as they make it to the galley and Ben moves himself from her hold, but not before dipping down to press a kiss to her temple. She guesses that means they’re going to be a couple that kisses now. Maybe even kisses often, if she’s lucky. She _hopes_. Because in the snow… That had been nice. Perfect for what it was. But she’d like to know how beautiful and toe curling it can get. She wants to know if she can make Ben’s body react, and—

“Found it.” Ben holds up a tea box that’s made to hold several teas and lifts it over his head to keep from flipping all the teas on the top. “Should still be good.” His eyes lock to Rey’s and… she wants to melt on the spot. They’re so _full_ , so painfully and unbelievably _full_. They’ll have to talk, she knows they’ll have to talk about a lot of things, because she’s still kinda mad at him, but all of that dims in the iridescent glow of Ben’s deep brown eyes. His throat bobs and maybe he’s sensed all of what she’s feeling… and maybe he’s feeling it, too. “Would you care to do the honors?” 

“With pleasure.” 

And it _is_ a pleasure brewing tea for Han. Finn’s rifling through cabinets and making small talk with Ben, but Rey pays them no mind for just a moment. She’s too busy thinking about how in some cultures it’s important for a prospective daughter-in-law to make a meal for her groom-to-be’s family. Others value expensive gifts or practical things. Others place high regard for tea. And a pot brewed by the daughter-in-law and accepted by the parents is a symbolic gesture. It means in the eyes of the parents, the couple is wed. 

Rey wouldn’t mind at all if Han saw things that way here.   
  
“Ready,” she says. “I’ll just run this up to Han. Be right back!” 

Finn looks worried and takes a step forward. “I thought I was—”

“I got this!” She flounces off before he can worry further. A little more time with Ben isn’t going to do him any harm and Rey’s on a mission right now. “Here you are,” she sing-songs to Han, proffering the cup of tea to him. 

“Where’s Finn?” Han’s brow puckers in confusion.

“Talking with Ben.” 

“I thought I told him to bring me this. Give you two time to duck away and be alone if you wanted.” 

Rey grins. Kriff, she’s beaming, actually. “I’ll send him back here with some food then.” She reaches out and squeezes Han’s shoulder. “Thank you, Han. I… I don’t—” Words fail her, fading to nothing as a lump forms in her throat. 

Han seems to understand what she means, his smile soft and genuine. “I know,” he supplies, too soft to be considered gruff, but he seems to be working to contain his emotions just as much as she is. “Send that Finn guy back up here and talk to my son.” 

“Right away.” 

But it isn’t right as right away as Rey would have liked, because Finn and Ben had merged onto heavier topics as she rejoins them. 

“The old man,” Finn’s asking, “—he was a friend?” 

Ben’s lips twist, falling flat when he gives an answering shrug. “More my uncle’s friend than mine.”

“Okay.” Finn’s head bobs twice. “I’m sorry they tried to have you kill him.” 

“I regret I didn’t save him,” Ben answers sadly. 

Finn regards Rey next, his gaze searching. As if he’s trying to process something new. Something he’s never seen or experienced before. “Kylo— _Ben_ ,” he amends, flashing Ben an apologetic look before focusing on Rey again. “He’s your reason. Why you joined the mission.” 

“Yes.” Rey’s selfish and has no qualms owning up to just how selfish her reasons for going were. 

“Okay.” Finn’s lips purse together, his eyes darting between Rey and Ben again. And again. “Okay,” he says again, stepping past Ben and then Rey. “I’m just gonna see if they’ve heard anything about the fleet yet.” 

Ben winds an arm around Rey, pulling her close. He smells of fire and snow and machinery. It’s different, but there’s that distinct Ben scent under it all, and it’s making Rey’s head swim. She wants to drown in Ben’s smell. Or join him in a shower in ‘fresher. Strip him from the bad memories of the past year with every layer that she peels from him. Wash him until he’s clean, inside and out. And wanting her touch so bad he takes her against—

“Huh?!” She’s yanked from her fantasy and is almost mad about it, but comes back to herself with the realization that Ben’s soft lips are against her forehead. “What’d you say?” 

He gives a low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. “I was asking what that was about between the two of you just now.” 

“Oh.” What was… between her and… it’s hard to think with Ben nuzzling the tip of his nose over her hairline… But she swallows hard and determines to at least _try_. “I think it’s—well, he’s free for the first time, too. I think he’s still learning what it’s like for people to love each other.” 

She freezes at the word. The l-word. Too soon? They’ve been apart for a year, and what if Ben’s still fighting Snoke? What if he has an even strong hold on Ben now and—

But Ben silences her worries and doubts with a kiss to her forehead. “And here I was—” Kiss on her right cheek, “—assuming I’d be the one—” hands angling and turning her face, then kiss on left cheek, “—to say it first.” A sensual kiss to the juncture of her neck and shoulder follows… At least, it would be more sensual if Rey wasn’t bundled in her coat and scar. 

Ben’s unfazed and is kissing his way up her neck, each one searing through her scarf and into her skin until his lips close over hers… A gentle pillow pressing down that Rey wasn’t nothing more than to sink into…

But can’t. 

Because Ben withdraws, only to lean his forehead against hers. “I love you, Rey.” 

“Ben…” That kriffing lump reappears, choking all words from her throat. “I love you. So much.” 

“I know.” He pulls her closer, bringing his other arm around her shoulder and she’s suddenly being held by Ben. _Held by Ben_. Something she’d hoped and longed for for so long.

“You looked for me.” It’s like he’s almost asking, even though she’s already told him so in their Force connection-thing. “You’ve been looking for me. All this time.” 

“Of course I was. What else was I going to do?” 

“I don’t know.” His arms tighten and she feels his jaw tremble against her hair. “I didn’t think that far. I didn’t think much at all. I just—” Ben can’t bring himself to finish and Rey sighs in his arms. 

“I think you should know, and I mean this in the most loving way possible, there’s nowhere you can run that will be too far for me to find you. If you’re too fast for me to catch right away again, I’ll still search as long as it takes until I find you.” 

“Rey…” He breaks down then, crying in her arms, and she knows words like that are different for Ben then they are for her. They carry a completely different meaning. For Rey, they would strike fear right into her heart and she’d recoil, accept the challenge and begin to run. For Ben… well, no one ever came for Ben in his time of need, and he’s felt abandoned all his life. 

Until Han came for him. Until Rey came for him, too. 

She hopes that will be enough for them to drown out the voice and pull of Snoke this time. 

When his tears seem to dry up, she asks if they can find one of the sleeping quarters, and Ben steals a quick kiss before threading their fingers together and pulling her along. 

* * *

It’s funny, Rey wouldn’t have thought it possible to talk so much between kisses. Or broach such serious topics. 

Turns out, it is.

“No more—mmmphmm—running away without— _mmmm_ —me,” she manages between kisses, cupping his cheeks with her hands. “I mean it, Ben. We can run away from anything in the galaxy you want. As long as it’s together.” 

“Agreed.” Ben swoops back in for another kiss, fingers dancing over her scarf. Her hand joins his in tugging it off, and he’s helpful and thoughtful enough to assist her with removing her jacket, too. He laughs as she tugs and yanks at the monstrosity he’s still wearing, keeping her from _feeling_ the hard plains of his chest. “Allow me.” 

He releases her to bring his hands to his collar… And _pulls_. He’s using the Force to assist him with that yank, and it ought to be sexy, it ought to be such a turn on—and she thinks it will be one day—but for now… Her thoughts turn elsewhere.

“You tortured Poe.” She’s cautious to keep from sounding accusing. The Force knew what atrocities she’s committed in the past in the name of Crimson Dawn. But she wants the truth from Ben. 

He grimaces, something dark flashing in his eyes. “I had to sift through flyboy memories to get information—it’s debatable who tortured who in that instance.”

“Ben…” 

“It gave me no pleasure, all right? If he survives that attack on Starkiller Base, I’ll even apologize to him, if he’ll accept it.” 

Rey thinks of Poe, of the difficult frustration he tries so hard to be and shakes her head. “Now, that’s truly debateable.” She twines her arms around Ben’s chest, stepping back into his space. “But the point is, you’ll have a clear conscience.” 

He permits her touch, but she knows he’s not melting and ready to resume their amorous activities. Not yet, at least. “Snoke was teaching me how to invade as he does; I’m bad at it though,” he confesses, as if it were a weakness. ( _That’s how he’s been told to view it for the past year,_ she reminds herself.) “You have to want it; you have to want to dwell and be part of another mind. I don’t. I hate the experience and want it to be over before I’ve even begun. It makes for a harsh technique, and Dameron felt the brunt of it that time.”

Rey says nothing more about Poe, absorbing all of what Ben’s just confessed. And any implications thereof. “Snoke—he was never gentle with you.” 

She’s not asking and Ben seems to get that. “No. He made it seem friendly enough when I was younger. Something harmless enough to make it appealing to a young child. A secret friend to listen when I was upset.” 

Rey shivers and she’s done thinking seriously for a little while. Maybe forever. “Can we, I dunno, not talk about this right now?” 

“You’re the one who brought it up, sweetheart.” His chuckle is breathy in her hair and just dark enough to spark shivers down the length of her spine. She’s about to answer when he lifts his head and looks her in the eye. “Incidentally, why do you care what happens to Poe?” 

“I don’t.” She frowns, not understanding why he’s asking this. She was asking a general question and—

“You brought it up. Citing _his_ name specifically—not asking if I’ve spent the last year torturing people for information….” 

Her brows furrow and this has taken a turn she didn’t anticipate. “As a means of finding out what’s happened to you in the last year.” 

“Why didn’t you ask like that?” 

“Was I supposed to inquire after a list?” 

“No, just—” He makes to pull away, but her grip around him tightens. She’s not letting go of him. Ever again. There’s something she’s missing here, and she doesn’t get it until his eyes suddenly look _worried_ , and she’s suddenly cold with worry, doubt, fear, and sadness. “Why that flyboy, though? Is there— _was_ there something—?” 

“Oh my— _kriff._ ” Understanding shoots through her and she kissing Ben again. Hard and desperate, diving her fingers into his hair. He moans and whimpers as she sucks, nips, and presses against his lips. “No. No, no, no, no. No. Never. And no.” She claims his lips again, backing them into what she thought would be a cot, but they’ve twisted and turned and he’s somehow pressed against a wall now. “Only you, Ben. Always and forever. Only you.” 

“Yeah?” 

She closes her lips over his chin, tender and sweet. “I swear it. He’s a dumb flyboy who can’t follow orders and honestly it’s a tossup if he’ll die at the hands of the First Order or your mother.” 

“Okay.” He seems to mull that answer over, leaning his head back to hers, his lips ghosting over hers before he repeats, “Okay,” and stops talking in favor of making out. 

* * *

He’s lost track of time in this room. It’s the room he used to sleep in, and some part of him wonders if he digs through drawers and compartments if they’ll find any of his old toys and clothes.

They’ve slowly rid themselves of restricting layers: they’ve rid him of his outer robe, tunic and thick gloves, and Rey’s down to her thin, long-sleeved shirt that’s made of the finest cotton on Naboo and her pants, her boots in a messy trail with his, leading between their pile of clothes that he’d prefer stay there. Forever. 

He’s holding her in his lap on his cot, his lower back against the wall, while the rest of him is hunched over, cradling Rey to his chest, breathing her in. Soaking up every contented sigh she hums. 

“Tell me, Ben,” she says again, and he knew he couldn’t avoid having _this_ conversation with her. “Why did you almost do it?” 

His throat bobs, and he runs his hands over her arms, drawing strength from her peace as he recites: “There is no death, there is the Force.”

Her eyes flash and he feels a wave of fiercy rage wash over them—not _at_ him, though. And not from what he just said either… He can’t explain how he knows that, but he knows it to be true nonetheless. “The Jedi were wrong if that’s the fullest conclusion to be drawn from their code. I reject that twisted sense of martyrdom, Ben Solo. And you have to stop making choices for me—”

“When have I—”

“In not letting me have a say, you’re withholding choices from me.” She doesn’t extricate herself, but he mourns the loss of intimacy as she sits up… but he’s soothed and calmed as she cups his cheek with her hand, gaze locked to his. “You left me on Batuu without talking to me about it. You could have told me what you were worried about, why you were so frightened that you felt you had no other choice. You could have told me and given the choice of what to do with that information. And you were about to take your own life, depriving me of the gift of _you_. _Again_.” 

He could die here and now from the guilt of hurting her so. That hadn’t been… he didn’t want. She deserves so much _more_.

She stills and silences his whirring thoughts with a tender press of her lips to his. Gentle and kind. Forgiving. “I don’t know much about love or relationships, but I know I want you and I to be the type of couple that talks.”

“Yes, Rey.” He’s kissing her again, more heated and needy this time. He can’t hold her close enough or tight enough, and he’s starting to strain with _need_. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Always.” 

“ _Ben_.” Her fingers dance at the hem of his shirt and he’s ready to tear himself away to be rid of this cursed layer separating his skin from her—

“Uhh, guys?” 

A loud knock sounds from the door and they are still in each other’s arms. Not moving away. In fact, Rey leans her head into his as she asks, “Are we getting close?” 

“Yeah,” the voice from behind the door answers. “About to drop outta hyperspace. In about a quarter of an hour Han says.” 

“We’ll be right out,” Rey answers. She kisses Ben once more before carefully removing herself from his lap. 

Ben’s thankful she busies herself with the task of shoving her feet back into her boots, then pulling over her second shirt and gathering up the rest of their clothes. It takes him several moments before he feels ready to leave the room with her and not embarrass himself with a tented bulge in his pants. 

He considers himself ready to arrive once they land, but deboarding the ship makes him see how _not_ ready he is. He’s _so_ not ready. He wants to cower and hide at the sight of throngs of celebrating sentients. X-Wings land, pilots jump from their ships and there’s hugging, shouting, and cheering, and Ben takes it all to mean _their_ mission was a success. 

Starkiller Base was destroyed. He starts to wonder if General Hux fled in time, not certain if he hopes yes or no. But all that dissipates as Rey slots her fingers in the gaps between his, holding tight. Leading him all the way down to his waiting mom.

Mom. 

She’s smaller than he remembers. Older, too.

And she’s _here. Right in front of him_. Waiting for him. 

“Hello, Ben.” Her voice has aged, too, but he’s suddenly a small child that’s scraped his knee, in need of his mother’s arms. 

“Mom.” He drops Rey’s hand, closing the distance between him and the General of the Resistance in two long strides. They wrap their arms around each other, pouring all that they aren’t sure what to say or how to say into this embrace. 

His mother strokes his hair. “My boy. My darling boy. You’ve grown out your hair.” 

“I did.” His laugh is broken and watery and he holds her impossibly tighter. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry. 

“Me, too. For so much.” 

Ben doesn’t know what else to add; it’s… _so much_. They have decades of baggage between them to unpack. She seems to understand that without saying anything. Their death-grips loosen, but she doesn’t back away. Her fingers float to his cheek and she’s cupping it with her tiny hand, and he’s still that little boy being comforted by his mother after a nightmare. Or forgiven for exploding an expensive vase that was a present from someone important… 

“We—we have time now, though. Time for all the talking you want.” Ben swallows, though his mouth is as sand, and he has to clear his throat before speaking again. “I’m home.” 

“And I’m so glad you’re here, Ben.” Her hand falls, only to take his in hers and squeeze tight. “I’m afraid we don’t have nearly enough time at the immediate present, but please know how much I love you, and want that time in the future to work through it all with you.” 

“Me, too.” He bobs his head and it’s lame, but that’s all he can manage to say, mostly because he knows she’s still first and foremost General Organa. She’s the face of the Resistance… But as she welcomes him along with Dad, Chewie, Rey, and Finn, he knows that she’s also his mom—and she’s bearing that role proudly and with a bit more care this time. 

* * *

Han is sent to the medbay while Leia ushers the rest of them into the intelligence area. 

The leadership comes up with a plan almost instantly, because _of course_ they come up with a plan. It’s the Resistance with Leia in charge and Rey expects nothing less. They know the First Order will find them, which means they’re in need of a new base. Leia sends out squadrons to missions across the galaxy in hopes of making allies. She then assigns herself to the _Falcon_ with Han and Chewie for the foreseeable future to lead the search for a new base. 

She says they’ll start with an older Rebellion base on Crait and assess from there. 

She almost argues when Rey and Ben decline to join, beginning with the Resistance needs every able bodied sentient—but, as if summoned by the Force, Artoo wakes himself from low-power mode and together, he and BB-8 reveal the map to Skywalker. 

Rey looks to Ben, but he’s already watching her. His dark eyes and keen gaze shoot right through her. They know down to their marrow they can’t simply fly away. They have to be the ones to go to Luke Skywalker. 

They say they’ll need a ship and Leia worries there won’t be enough to take them all the way to the far off Ach-To and get her and Han to Crait before the First Order comes for them. Han’s been released from the medbay by then and tells them not to worry—Ben’s uncle promised his little Starfighter he’d always be there if Ben was ever in need. 

Ben actually smiles at that and Rey decides to not ask for details now—she’s more concerned with getting Ben checked out by the medics and physicians. She watches as they heal bruises of greens and purples across this chest, vowing she’ll be the one to end Snoke herself someday. Or perhaps she’ll hold him down while Ben has that honor… She shakes herself free of these thoughts when he’s cleared to leave and pulls his shirt back over his head. She leaves him to the Resistance canteen and they grab some of those heinous nutrition bars before heading back to the _Falcon_. 

Chewie’s still eating amidst the throng of the Resistance, and Han’s disappeared with Leia—back to Leia’s quarters, Rey hopes. They need time together, too. 

Rey and Ben manage to stop kissing long enough to surrender to sleep at some point. Ben holds her close and they’re a tangle of limbs and sheets and blushing, savoring kisses that night. Rey wakes multiple times just to _feel_ Ben, to be certain this isn’t another dream. 

They kiss and kiss when they wake together several hours later… Kissing and exploring each other’s bodies until Ben’s got a pronounced issue that Rey would very much like to do something about—

But Chewie gives a low howl and groans, knocking on Ben’s door, alerting them they’ll be taking off soon. So… there’s no time for _that_ now… for now, though. They can address it later… once they’ve collected this new ship from the infamous Lando Calrissian on Cloud City… Because last night isn’t the last time Rey’s sleeping with Ben. 

The conversation is easy and light, full of hope as they hurtle through hyperspace. Rey has a feeling it hasn’t always been like this for the Solo-Organa family, but they’re all laughing over shared memories and eager to fill each other in on details the other forgot… it’s surreal… and possibly too good to be true…

She’s still so caught up in the haze and daze of such love and the wonder of an actual city resting amidst the clouds… So unaware of anyone or anything on the landing pad as she and Ben wave to the _Millennium Falcon_ that she doesn’t notice the feminine figure waiting for them to turn around until it’s too late. 

Rey’s blood runs cold and she moves to take a protective stance in front of Ben as she stares at the woman clothed in black, a cape of heavy red silk billowing in the wind. Her dark, yet slightly graying hair is twisted and coiled high atop her head, and it’s almost strange, but she’s not looking at Rey. 

No.

Her keen gaze is fixed on where the _Falcon_ had just been… head tilting upward as if watching it ascend until it’s lost to hyperspace. 


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s a silly piece of trivia, but Padmé’s ship in The Phantom Menace was a J-type Nubian. And that’s the style yacht she continued to fly in the prequels. I couldn’t help but find a way to give Ben and Rey a piece of Padmé, and some luxury.
> 
> My forever love to Frumpologist, QuinTalon, and madi_solo for their love and support and hard work helping make this story something worthy of presentation <3 And endless thanks to you all, too. You wonderful people who read my nonsense and have followed along with bit of Reylo AU <3 I'm more grateful than I can ever say!

* * *

“Qi’ra.” 

Rey and Ben move as one in a splinter of a second. Rey steps in front of him, her right hand on the blaster at her hips, acting as both shield and protector. Ben, meanwhile, binds an arm around Rey’s waist, hugging her back to his chest as his other arms lifts up and out, as if to summon something— _anything_ —to use as a weapon if necessary. 

Qi’ra lifts her hands, palms up. “I’ve not come to brawl,” she states, regal and poised. “As you can see, I’m hardly dressed for such an encounter.” 

“Forgive me for not trusting your word,” Rey answers, face jerking about as she searches the clouds, then the shadows from where Qi’ra must have been hiding. Ben’s arm tightens at her waist, while Rey’s left hand falls to press against his thigh, ready should the need for momentum arise. “Besides, you could easily be hiding a—”

“ _Waaaaaaaiiiiiiiiit!_ Wait, wait, wait!” A man with trimmed dark hair, dark skin, a purple silk, black cape, and gleaming white teeth is running at them, arms up. He stops short in the gap between Qi’ra, Rey, and Ben, gesticulating wildly as he speaks. “No shooting permitted on the platform—it’s a safety violation, and where’s Han?” 

“Gone already, Lando.” Ben’s voice is deep and smoldering, and it rumbles in his chest at Rey’s back—which incidentally does _things_ to Rey’s memory of waking up in Ben’s arms mere hours ago. “I suspect he hadn’t anticipated leaving his only son in a trap.” 

“There’s no trap here,” Qi’ra volunteers, clasping her hands together over her legs. Her chin lifts ever-so-slightly, and Rey is reminded of feeling a small child again, or youth being scolded for an indiscretion. “I’m simply here paying an old ally a visit.” 

The one Ben called Lando makes a face at Qi’ra. “Must you be so uncouth as to call me _old_?”

“Do you have a preference?” Qi’ra arcs a narrow brow, but Rey catches the hint of a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth and she starts to believe Qi’ra, at least in part. She only fights smiles when she truly likes the object or person. 

“Distinguished and longtime ally or acquaintance will work.” The man picks at a non-existent piece of lint from his cape and flashes everyone a smile that Rey supposes could have been considered dashing for most (and may very well be dashing for some). “Would you like to come in out of the wind and chill? I’ve arranged for a nice tea to be served, along with some tasty delicacies, and I think it’d be a shame to let it all go to waste before everyone’s heard each other out.” 

Rey’s lips parted, ready with a solid comeback to decline, more than eager now to slip on board _any_ ship (not necessarily the one that had been promised to Ben), and fly off—unfortunately for her, her stomach apparently has thoughts of its own, and couldn’t help but grumble embarrassingly loud at the mention of “tasty delicacies.” 

Ben chuckles behind her, his fingers splaying wider over her stomach as he leans his face to her ear. His voice is light and teasing, and just smooth enough to have her toes curling in her boots. “Hungry, sweetheart?”

 _You’ve no idea, Ben Solo._ She reminds herself this is neither the time nor the place, but that doesn’t seem to do any good. She’s already lulled into a sense of safety. The Force is calm as she reaches out, even the rapid beating of Ben’s heart is settling back to a normal rhythm. It suddenly occurs to her now that he’s spanning the length of her entire waist with a single hand, and oh how she’d missed Ben’s hands, and—

“A little, yeah,” she manages, forcing an exhale from her lungs. “Those nutrition bars will never do it for me.” 

Ben chuckles and loosens his hold so they can adjust to follow Lando and Qi’ra out of the wind and clouds of the landing platform, side-by-side, hands laced tightly together, ready for a fight should anyone or anything come to try and separate them. They walk a short distance across shining, crisp, white floors and walls into what appears to be a greenhouse with a terrace, and, of course, an expanse of large windows. 

“Welcome, welcome.” Lando ushers everyone inside motioning to the seats at a heavy-laden, table-cloth covered table, holding Qi’ra’s chair out for her. “Qi’ra assured me you’re not too picky, Rey, but I wanted to be sure there was a little bit of everything. And Ben always had a healthy appetite when he was younger.” The smile under his mustache and nose twists and appears almost sad. “It pains me that I’m unable to say for certain if that’s still the case.” 

“I eat,” Ben offers, but his posture stiffens as he follows Lando’s lead and pulls out Rey’s chair for her. He waits for her to sit and lays her napkin over her lap before sliding into his beside her, back as straight as if he were forced against a wall.

Rey doesn’t like this, because she can’t _feel_ anything off or deceptive in all of this… _and yet…_

“Han called you Ben’s uncle yesterday,” she starts as Lando takes the teapot and begins to pour its contents into delicate, beautifully painted cups. Accepting her cup and further inspection did indeed prove her correct—this is a rare set from Gatalenta, not just hand made, but hand painted as well. No droids or conventional machinery involved in the process. It’s hard not to be impressed with such a piece, impressed and almost soothed into trusting this man, but Qi’ra’s eyeing her from across the table and she shakes herself. “What is it you did to earn such an esteemed title?” 

Lando doesn’t hesitate, lifting his fingers to count off the list as he answers: “Saved his life multiple times on the Kessel run, didn’t send bounty hunters after him when he had the gaul to shake my hand after winning my ship from under my nose, helped save him again from Jabba the Hutt, lead the Rebel attack on the second Death Star… do I need to continue, my lady?” 

“No. Thank you. I suppose I should be more curious about the fact you and Qi’ra are friends.” 

The two across the table share and exchange looks, possibly lost to memories of their own. “Are we?” 

“I suppose we are,” Qi’ra says carefully, the corner of her mouth twitching again, and this is highly irregular for Rey. Qi’ra uses a set of fancy tongs to select a few pieces of sliced fruit for her plate. “At the very least, we’ve been square since the Kessel run.” 

“Even before then, I would say.” Lando pours his tea and waves over the table. “Yes, ma’am, Lady Rey. We’re friends.” 

“Curious that she’s never mentioned you before then.” Rey sips her tea, face flat and demure.

“Which apparently can’t count for much when it comes to secrets between you and I, desert flower.” There’s something in Qi’ra eye for a flash of a moment. The barest hint of something chilling and dangerous, turning Rey’s blood cold, making her ready to grab Ben’s hand and _bolt_ … “But that’s all in the past,” Qi’ra continues, “and I’m afraid Lando isn’t to blame for my asking a favor of an old friend.” 

“A favor?” Ben flattens his hands over his lap and Rey catches his knuckles whitening with the effort of pressing down. “The betraying kind of favor?” 

“No, Starfighter. I apologized and promised your dad never again.” Lando is apologetic and almost mournful. “You’re safe, kid. You can always trust me and come to me.” 

Qi’ra clears her throat, waiting for the focus of three sets of eyes before explaining, “Two years ago when you first disappeared, I had asked Lando to be on the lookout for a girl named Rey, should she come to Bespin. He remembered his word after receiving a message from Han yesterday, and I came to offer my input as to the ship he should loan out.” 

“Ah yes!” Lando claps his hands together, rubbing them excitedly. “I was all ready to play it fast, but lacking in a few comfort essentials when the lovely Qi’ra reminded me of a ship I acquired back several years ago: a H-type Nubian yacht.” 

Rey perks up, lowering her icing covered bun back to her plate in surprise. That’s a really, _really_ —

“Won’t work.” Ben’s already shaking his head. “They’re unarmed.” 

“ _Usually_ ,” Lando amends, “but you know me and how I like to adjust, modify, and tweak.” 

It catches Rey completely off guard when Ben smirks, burying it with a long sip of tea; Lando doesn’t bother hiding his. Qi’ra’s eyes glint in amusement. 

“This is technically a loan, Ben” Lando continues. “I don’t need you getting any ideas like your old man, but I’ve no immediate need for her. Consider this yours until you’ve one of your own again.” 

“...Thanks.” 

“Of course, of course. She’s named _Sollue_ after the river in Theed, and she was quite the beauty even before I took her on. You’ll have an upper and lower level connected by a turbolift platform, with a lounge and crew quarters located on the upper level. I think you’ll find it’s ample space for… live action Djerik gaming, should you desire.” 

Rey doesn’t care for that wicked curl in his lip and Ben’s squirming in his seat. She’s flushed for reasons she doesn’t understand, and she _hates_ not understanding something. “Live action Djerik…?” No. It still isn’t computing, she’s missed the joke somewhere—

“Among other activities, as well, I’m sure, right, Lando?” Qi’ra interjects, eyeing Rey and appearing oddly protective. Almost… _no_. Rey stopped thinking of Qi’ra as maternal ages ago and there’s no need to fool herself into thinking anything more of this than something for Qi’ra’s gain and advantage. 

“I was trying to be a gentleman about it, but yes.” The man looses a dark chuckle and continues. “The lower level is usually furnished with a portable throne room, but I’ve expanded that into a grand luxury suite and ‘fresher. The extra space was also where we added the weapon system. The ship is made complete with an additional, albeit slightly smaller than the original, escape pod.” 

It’s such a sweeping conclusion that Rey’s left to wonder in the now silent room if they should clap. Or leap to their feet and crush the two of them in grateful embraces. Something about all this feels off and too easy, though. So, she’s not particularly inclined for either, and no longer seems to have much of an appetite. She picks at her iced bun, smiles, and sips her tea, but even that does little to settle her nerves. 

“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind giving your _nephew_ a tour of the ship while Rey and I settle a few things, Lando?” 

Fear slices into Rey and her first instinct is to protest. To grab Ben and _run_ … But she takes time for a breath, and it’s as if the Force is speaking to her. Telling her to trust the instinct that she’s safe.

_Safe._

She turns to Ben, laying her hand over his thigh, looking him in the eye as she says, “I think that’s a great idea.” 

“You sure?” Ben covers her hand with his, tracing his thumb over her fingers. “Do you trust them?” 

“I’m not here to abduct Rey or force her to return with me.” Qi’ra’s face is solemn, tone flat, reserved for when she’s negotiating with simpletons. “I’m not even here to blackmail her into it. But if it makes any feel more secure, by law, every public room on Cloud City is fitted with cameras, and we’ve no less than four aimed at us right this minute.” 

When Ben still seemed unconvinced, Rey takes his hand in hers, lifting it and kissing her lips to his palm. “I’ll be fine,” she assures him, trying to send him her feelings of peace and calm in the Force. Whichever it is that helps more, Rey doesn’t know. But she’s alone with Qi’ra moments later, twiddling her thumbs in her lap. 

“You look well—

“I thought there was no escape from Crimson Dawn.” _Switch off, switch off,_ **_switch off!_ **Rey wants to take the accusation back, but it’s far too late. Qi’ra’s already smiling like the Loth-Cat that just caught the Loth-Rat. 

“There isn’t,” she agrees. “But I’ve gone through and erased any and every mention of a Rey of Jakku from any records, files and data. Several pirates and smuggler crews who take jobs from the Pykes and Black Sun have had to be financially persuaded into silence, but the majority were quite reasonable once I explained the situation.” 

“And what, precisely, _is_ the situation?” 

“That I’ve no intention of making myself a target of the First Order. You’ve drawn attention to yourself with some of your escapades over the past two years. The First Order now occupies Pijal and I was most surprised to find you’d taken on mechanical work for the Resistance.” 

Rey’s blood runs cold now. She’s frigid and numb and _needs_ to move, but can’t _think_ to break free from the room—

“Then there was the incident involving a certain non-profit medical corporation,” Qi’ra continues, canting her head. “I can’t imagine all the bribing and killing the Supreme Leader must have done to keep word from getting out that his new apprentice had been a renegade do-gooder throughout the galaxy before surrendering to the First Order.” 

Sick. Rey’s going to be sick. She’s going to pick up her teacup and empty it’s contents across Qi’ra’s face, and—

“And even now there are reports flying about a Force-sensitive girl wanted for assisting in the destruction of Starkiller Base.” 

Silence. 

The room is pregnant with painful silence that kicks and squirms and shifts uncomfortably between them. 

Rey licks her lips, curling her fingers around her teacup. “I see.”

“You’ve been a liability to Crimson Dawn since you left, and enough time, credits, and other resources were wasted the first year attempting to track you and then with the attempt to bring you back by force. So, before the First Order could put its eyes on the Crime syndicates for their share of profits, it seemed best to do away with all association with you.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed.” Qi’ra tuts her tongue, and brings her napkin from her lap and folds it over the table. “Now it was short notice Lando getting in touch with me, and to be perfectly honest, I presumed he’d forget all about his promise, but I managed to gather some of your personal belongings that I’d locked away. No baubles and trinkets, I’m afraid; just some of your favorite outfits and shoes, and that scarf your protocol droid gave you as a birthday present one year—and oh, yes. AV-D3PO is onboard the ship along with everything else. 

Joy. It’s so fast and sudden and completely unbridled, bubbling _joy_. Rey can hardly contain herself, can hardly stop the smile splitting across her face and she’s too excited to form a proper sentence. “Deethree—you didn’t wipe or incinerate—she’s—she’s—” 

Qi’ra’s face softens, though her words remain all business. “It seems my use for her came to an end as I finished packing your belongings. Everything’s waiting for you in the suite onboard the ship.” Rey’s head is spinning and it’s impossible that Qi’ra has anything else to add, but she _does_ , expression turning serious again. “Now _Ben…_ He was more of a challenge to provide for on such short notice, but Lando was able to procure clothing for him based off of estimated sizes acquired from his mother last night. I’m sure both you and he will be delighted to know I talked Lando out of some truly flashy pieces.” 

“Yes! Thank you.” She hadn’t meant to blurt so, to _show_ how surprised she felt, but it’s just so… She clears her throat in an attempt to regain composure. “He’s quite particular with what he wears, even when I purchased things for him. All black whenever possible and relaxed fits.” 

“Well if he finds nothing to satisfy him, he’ll have to content himself to traveling around the galaxy being mistaken as a refugee some princess has taken pity on.” Qi’ra rolls her eyes, even as she smiles. It’s a soft smile, one of those that usually indicates one is lost in memory or though. She confirms Rey’s suspicions when she whispers, “Although… I would hardly expect anything less considering his father’s sense of style.” 

_Vulnerable. Weak._ The words scream into Rey’s mind, but not as a means of blackmail or manipulation. They remind Rey of the compassion she once had for this woman… _still_ has for her.

A woman who’s lost a great deal in order to gain all she has. 

“Did you know Han before?” Rey doesn’t clarify; they both know what’s implied with _before_.

“I did.” 

“Was he the one?” 

Qi’ra gives a crooked smile. “The one from a certain talk we once had? Yes. The one and only love of my life? No. No, no. ” She speaks more as one trying to convince herself of something, though, shaking her head. “I cared very much for him, even fancied loving him as much as I’m capable of loving. But I knew early on that love would never be enough for me to give up what I need most.” 

“Power?” Rey suggests, unspeakable sorrow curling around her heart. 

“Survival,” Qi’ra says, squaring her shoulders, all traces of softened edges vanishing into hard corners. “In the end, whatever I keep in my life and work, it’s to secure my own survival.”

The conversation seems to run its course then and Rey eyes the food on her plate. She thinks it would be polite to leave it, not certain if there’s time now for the men to return so they can eat… She’s actually still not certain if her stomach has unknotted itself to hold anything down—

“May I ask you something, Rey?” 

“Of course.” Rey locks eyes with the woman who raised her, with the one who helped shape her into the woman she now is today… 

And finds that matronly glimmer again. Qi’ra’s throat bobs once and she asks, “Does he make you smile?” 

“He does.” Rey’s answer is automatic, no matter how odd the question is. She feels the need to add something. Something to show it’s lasting, and not fleeting or easily removed. “From the inside out.” 

“Very well then.” Qi’ra takes a sip of her tea before speaking to Lando via comm-link, inviting them back to finish the tea. 

* * *

Ben can’t help it—he’s worried. Rey’s been lost in quiet contemplation since they boarded and made this first jump to hyperspace, and he just _knows_ it has something to do with what Qi’ra said before they left Cloud City. 

He reaches across the control panel, curling his fingers over hers. “You all right?” 

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

She twists her hand to thread her fingers through his, her palm cold against his. He’s out of his seat without any further thought beyond the need to warm her hand, so he does what first comes to mind and kisses it. Open-mouthed and nuzzling to transfer some of his warmth to her. Her eyes darken and her breath hitches. She swivels her seat so that Ben is now kneeling on the floor between her legs. His body is a flame that’s been ignited by a live wire. Fantasies he hasn’t dared to consider in a year spark to life, and his mouth runs dry. He kisses her palm once more, pulling away only to breathe over her hand and then cradle it in his. 

Not here. Not now. Not yet. 

“Are you worried we’re being tracked or followed?” he asks, more in an attempt to regain composure than anything else. 

“No. I honestly believe her intentions were good and kind in all of this, regardless of all the dribble she gave me about being a liability.” 

“Is it something else then?” He tries to keep it from sounding as if he’s prying, focusing to sound as inviting and open as he is—but, it’s been a year, and he’s out of practice speaking kindly to someone else. 

He must have done all right though, because Rey’s smiling and lifting his hand to her lips now, kissing the tip of each finger. 

“Before we left, she told me she visits the spas of Ephemera twice a year now. Once on her birthday and once on mine.”

Ben frowns. “Is that an open invitation?” 

“I think so.” 

“One you’re considering?” The frown deepens, even as Rey’s eyes shine. 

“I think so—not anytime time soon. But. Maybe someday.” She brushes her lips over his knuckles, stroking his wrists with her other hand. “What’s our plan of action after finding your uncle?” 

_Kriff._ His uncle. His former-master. He doesn’t know what to even call the guy anymore… And he certainly doesn’t want to be thinking of his uncle while he’s still kneeling between Rey’s pretty thighs, her boots brushing against the sides of his new jacket in a way that makes him think Rey _could_ be considering pressing them into his sides and dragging him closer in… He clears his throat, moving a hand over his lap. 

“I was hoping you had some ideas,” he manages to answer. 

“Dropping him off at the new base was the most I’d counted on.” Rey slots her fingers in the gaps between his and he’s lost again to the sensation of touch… to the observation of just how _small_ Rey’s hand is in his… And yet, how well it _fits_ . Like it was made to be held by his and in his… Made for him to _fill_ — “I presume we’ll have to stay on the base near him while we train some.” 

Rey’s words yank him from immediate fantasties. The thought of having Rey near his uncle… or the Resistance base… _What if Luke snaps again and tries to kill her, too?_ It’s one of the dozens of doubts and fears that flood his mind, forcing all air from his lungs… And he’s suddenly aware of the sensation of sinking… 

“Hey, hey.” Rey’s cooing, and making other soothing noises. She’s somehow on his lap, an arm around his shoulders, hand fisting at his sleeve as if to hold him closer, while she brushes back his hair with her free hand. “I’m here. You’re safe. And I’m here, Ben.” 

She closes her lips over his and it’s his salvation and undoing, as distracting as fortifying. He doesn’t think he’ll ever recover from the sensation of kissing Rey—he doesn’t want to. It’s consuming and drowning. She’s everything he can breathe and taste and hear… They’re locked away in their own little space in the galaxy in each other’s arms. In the pressing, angling, and slanting of lips… and tasting the woman he loves… 

He whimpers as they stop kissing, and Rey giggles, keeping still over his lap—something he’s not sure if he’s thankful for or not at the moment. 

Her eyes shine into his, looking right _into_ his, and he wants to kiss every freckle sprayed across her nose… But she interrupts that notion in the leaning of her forehead into his. Her voice is husky and a little breathless as she says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to use kissing you as a manipulation of feelings. It was just… you looked so troubled and I wanted to make it better.” 

“You made it lightyears better,” he growled, nuzzling his nose to hers. “Wanna try for even better?” 

“Yes.” Her lips over over his again, but only in a chaste peck. “Later. And as we’re comfortable and ready for things. But just then, you look as though you don’t like the sound of the base or training almost as much as me. Maybe even more.” 

“I’m scared,” Ben admits, holding Rey close. “Of too many things to list off right now and of things I don’t even know I’m scared of yet.” 

“I know what you mean. I’ve been thinking about what you told me about your grandfather and the Clone War, and then your uncle in the Rebellion… Even your mother.” 

Ben’s heart races in his chest, for different reasons now, though. He doesn’t interrupt, though, nodding to Rey that she should continue. 

“War separates the heroes from the people. They’re defined by ambiguous and hard decisions made and deeds done. In the end they pick right, but no one remembers the path to get there. You and I have already come through our own war, but the difference in what we’ve done is that no one will exonerate our past lives without some grand gesture that will go down in legend.”

“Full of our own talents, aren’t we?” He lifts a brow at her that’s only partially teasing—something in her words ring awfully close to the truth he’d so desperately pursued years ago. 

“I’m serious, Ben.” And so she sounds, gaze boring into his. “Tai, Hennix, and Voe, the other former-students, they’re not even fully fledged Jedi, and it’s like the base worships the ground they walk on when they return from their own missions. We’ll do our things to help their efforts, but we’ll find our own way to help those suffering under the rule of the First Order. I won’t become a legend with a past to hide. I want the freedom to be myself and embrace all of who and what I am.” 

He’s staring at her, he _knows_ he’s starstruck and staring. His chest tightens and it’s hard to _breathe_ for how much he loves this woman. She sees through the hubris and finds rays of light. She finds strength in her past to face her future. He wants his future to be twined with hers. Always… 

The Force seems to sigh and purr as they continue to hold each other, and he can’t help but _feel_ that this may have been the Will of the Force for him all along. That everything before was to bring him to this moment with Rey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't watched Solo, gosh dangit, I couldn't recommend it more. I love that movie so much, and I fall apart every time I hear Qi'ra tell Han she would smile thinking of being with him. I needed to include it somehow in Qi'ra having a mom-moment with Rey about Ben.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE NO CHILL!!! Frumpologist was beta rockstar and finished the story...and I couldn't keep it all to myself anymore.   
> This story is now complete and I'm emotional sharing it with y'all, but I'm beyond grateful for you sticking with me all these months. I truly hope you enjoy <3 I'll be uploading a short epilogue, too. Thank you all, though. Thank you so, so, so much.

* * *

Ben doesn’t remember falling asleep. He’s not even aware of his surroundings as he blinks awake. 

“Sir,  _ sir!”  _

“Hmm?” He yawns and rubs his eyes—why does his neck and back feel like a Bantha’s been walking all over him? Repeatedly. For hours and  _ hours _ ? 

“Someone turn that bloody alarm off,” Rey mumbles against his chest, burrowing her face deeper into his shirt. 

“That alarm is warning you we’re ten minutes from dropping out of hyperspace, Mistress Rey.” A droid is speaking very matter-of-fact at them. Ben can’t place the voice, it’s not Geegee… 

“If I may be so bold,” the droid continues and Ben continues blinking at it, trying to place it in his memory… “The bed in your quarters would make for a far more comfortable and appropriate place for intimate displays of affection, Mistress Rey.” 

“Deethree!” 

Rey jerks upright, her hip brushing against some part of Ben that’s  _ very _ much awake… and not at all groggy and in need of playing catch up. Feminine curves are cuddled against him— _ Rey’s  _ curves. At least, they  _ were _ … 

“Thank you, Deethree,” Rey says, standing between Ben’s legs and  _ kriff _ , he needs to get his head out of the sewer. Too many ideas of tackling her and kneeling between her thighs again. Or tugging her back down to him, banding his arms around her back and holding her against his chest. Pillowing her kiss swollen lips with his— 

“Ben!” 

“I know, I know.” He looses something between a growl and a groan as he takes Rey’s proffered hand. “Hyperspace, navigating through the Unknown Regions, Ach-To, Luke Skywalker.”  _ Yeah, yeah, yeah. _ All paling in comparison to the idea of intimacy with Rey.

They rush through their cleaning routines in the ‘fresher, and Ben silently pouts that it’s the first time they’ve  _ shared _ a mirror and sink and he can’t even enjoy it. Rey catches his eye and her cheeks flush pink. Maybe her thoughts keep turning to arguably more pleasurable and enticing things same as his; things he won’t be obliged to recount when Mom will debrief them. 

“How do you see things going with him?” Rey asks when they’re seated again in the cockpit, navigating their way through the vast expanse of the unknown towards a planet of mostly water. “How do you think your uncle will take being found?” 

“Piss poor at first.” Ben checks his mental shields, focusing extra energy there to ensure Snoke can’t  _ see _ anything through his eyes. Their ship rattles as space itself  _ groans _ . The dark chasm is dotted with stars, but they’re not near as bright as back towards known space, and he swears he hears another loud, low, vibrating groan… as if something is answering… 

“Purrgils.” Rey leans forward against the control panel, straining for a better look out into space. “At least, that would be my guess. We’re out far enough into space, but regardless.” She falls back into her seat, eyeing him thoughtfully. “Piss poor, you say? Any chance it’ll go well from the very beginning?” 

Ben shrugs, thinking it’s incredibly doubtful. “I think what we should focus on either way is that we’ll find common ground when talking about my mom, and how important it to her that he comes back with us. You can talk about how you’ve seen Tai, Voe, and Hennix. I’ll tell him about Snoke in my mind still, and he’ll come around. He’ll see he can’t just hole away and hide in fear.” 

“I’m inclined to believe some part of him already knows that, too. He wouldn’t have made a map of his whereabouts and hidden it away in two parts to eventually be found and put together otherwise.” 

Ben meditates on that for a moment, shoulders eventually quaking in silent laughter. 

“What, Ben?” Rey’s making a face at him, and it makes him want to laugh all the more. He would, actually, were it not for the rattling of the ship as they pass a blue planet that looks ready to implode with its own electric energy.

“Stars, we’re such a dramatic family.” Ben cards his hands through his hair several times, giving Rey a crooked smile. “I ran away and hid myself amongst non-criminal smugglers after accidentally blowing up a temple and thinking I killed my uncle. Said uncle ran away to an otherwise unplottable island that could only be found by a map that had to be put together in two parts. And my grandfather… all the stories I’ve read about him in the Clone Wars…” 

He shakes his head and Rey’s giggling softly, too, by this point. 

The giggling fades and it’s not long before he can feel the weight of Rey’s blinking stare at him, right as he thinks he might just have—

“What do we say about wanting to train?” 

“I don’t know.” He lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug, navigating the ship towards what he  _ thinks _ might just be their destination. “Maybe I’m willing to wait and see how things unfold with him regarding other matters first.” 

“Are you, though?” 

He scoffs at himself, silently cheering and hating the fact this indeed is Ach-To “No. No, I’m not. I need help, I know I do.” They enter the planet’s atmosphere and the blue of the water is brilliant, radiant even in the light of it’s sun. The sun isn’t blinding as it reflects off the water, it’s light dazzles and invites. It reminds Ben of Chandrila. Of simpler and happier times. “I’m broken in thousands of different ways and pieces behind the mask of calm composure. I don’t want to swallow my pride and ask him for help after what we went through before, but I know I need it.” 

“Me too,” she admits softly, keen gaze fixed on the water and rocky islands as they search for anything resembling homes or villages. “Not necessarily your uncle’s help, I think you can train me best. We do well together; you know when to be patient and when to push me, but I’m a mess still, too. I still have nightmares of bounty hunters or pirates. They either kill you before dragging me away or bring Qi’ra out and she orders your execution before throwing me into a cold and dark cell.”

Ben takes her hand in his. “At least we know there’s no chance of that happening anymore.” 

“Right. I worry we’ll be guilted into officially joining the Resistance, being pilots in a squadron or something and I don’t want that, Ben. I don’t want that at all. 

“No one’s going to force us into anything.” There’s no hesitation as he assures her of that. He vows it here and now. If Flyboy or Finn or even his own mother try to convince Rey of anything against her will… He blinks hard, drawing a sharp breath.  _ Inhale. Hold. Exhale.  _ “You won’t let that happen and neither will I. Dad’ll understand it, even if no one else does.” 

* * *

“Nice ship.” 

“Nice hair.” 

All right, so Ben hadn’t the faintest idea how this would go, but mocking his uncle’s hair hadn’t quite been what he had in mind. Luke grunts and nods, staring at the ship, leaving Ben to feel a twinge in his conscience. He’d mocked the hair while Lando really  _ had _ loaned him a beautiful ship—

“You might as well get back on that thing and go back where you came from,” Luke turned around completely, using his walking stick as he started back up the large, rocky cliff. 

“You don’t know what we’re here for!” 

“I do, though.” 

“At least—”

“Wait! Please!” Rey calls, taking a step out and not saying anything more until Luke looks back over his shoulder at her. “Look, we saw you come all the way down from whatever you were doing to meet us and we’ve come all this way, I think the least that should happen right now is you invite us in for a cup of tea.”

He loves Rey. There will never be anyone else for Ben but this woman—he would  _ never  _ have considered something as simple as demanding a cup of tea from his uncle. A common decency or etiquette play that Luke may or may not consider himself bound to follow any longer…. _ But _ , to make things even more curious and intriguing than before, it seems Luke is honestly considering what she’s said as if 

“Don’t have tea,” Luke answers gruffly, “But I was just about to harvest Thala-siren green milk for the week. You can join me for some when I come back.” 

Rey makes a face at Ben, but he doesn’t have answers for her. He’s never heard of a Thala-Siren, and besides that, warm milk had never interested him. He’d preferred it cool when he was younger and still drank milk, but that had been more than two decades ago now… He slips his hand in hers for the simple pleasure of touching her and being close, but Rey takes it as an invitation to walk about outside of the ship. They see several strange little bird-like creatures with large black eyes and Rey tells him they better watch out. 

“From what? These little guys?” Ben gives her a look. “But it’s possibly one of the cutest little creatures I’ve ever encountered.” 

“Exactly. They’re cute because it gives them an advantage somehow. I don’t know yet if they’re going to try and bite us eventually or not.” 

Ben only shakes his head, breathing deep of the salty sea air. The wind is strong and tosses his hair carelessly around. It’s colder, too, now that he’s standing near the water, and there’s the faintest spray of water it carries. He checks the shields in his mind, feels no resistance, and… 

Reaches out…

His eyes fall closed and it’s… it’s beautiful. He sees not just the island, but  _ everything.  _ Life, death, decay and new life from all that rots. Peace and safety, violence and fear. But there is… balance. Harmony. It’s a cycle that has been since the dawn of time itself, and it will continue for centuries and millenniums after he’s gone… 

_ As it should _ . 

It feels…  _ good _ . 

As if it’s all worked out to find Balance already. or maybe Ben’s just now seeing it as a possibility within himself—

There’s a rattle and shaking at a door in Ben’s mind, but… he’s not afraid. He’s not sprinting to throw the door open, but strangely enough, neither is he afraid of what will happen should Snoke enter into this moment. Would he convince himself he’s simply acting out the Will of the Force, assisting in bringing Balance again? Or would he—

“You feel it, too?” Rey whispers, awestruck and captivated.

Ben’s mouth is too dry. The lump in his throat is too big. He can only nod in response. He doesn’t know what this means for him with the Force, but maybe… Maybe there’s a path to healing and understanding to be found. Maybe  _ these _ are to be his first steps into a much larger world. 

Luke returns, shaking two cantines at them, and jerking his head, indicating at a cluster of huts a few levels of rocks above where they landed the ship. “Make sure to keep that ramp closed tight!” he says. “The porgs will invade, nest, and get into everything before you even know what’s happening.” 

Ben takes him at his word and does a physical run down of Lando’s ship before he and Rey join Luke in what must be his hut. Luke has poured out three servings of the frothy green milk and Rey seems to be trying  _ very _ hard to not turn up her nose at it—it’s actually really cute the way her brow is puckering and she’s forcing her face to appear neutral, and she seems to be wanting to look  _ anywhere  _ else, but can’t bring herself to look away.

Yeah. It’s  _ really _ cute. Adorable even. He dips down and presses a kiss her temple and plans on another one or two on her cheeks—

“—I take it she’s the blue light from your dreams.” 

Ben snaps his face up, eyes wide. “She’s what?”

“I’m  _ what? _ ” Rey’s equally confused, too. 

Luke looks back and forth between them shrugging before allowing himself to flop back on a stone bench. “Well, I could be wrong; I’m mostly closed off to the Force these days, but she feels like blue.” 

“A color cannot be felt,” Rey argues. “It’s a visual characteristic.” 

“I didn’t say it made any sense. You feel blue and I’m not questioning what the Force reveals to me.” It’s frustrating that he leaves it as vague and ambiguous as that, taking a large gulp from his cup of green milk and wiping at his bead and mouth with his sleeve afterwards…

Watching Ben all the while… As if he’s trying to be purposefully obtuse. 

Well, Ben’s grown beyond petty games—he thinks. He  _ hopes _ . 

He tries to show himself he is by turning to Rey with an idea. “If you’re the calming light I sometimes dream of, that might explain how the connection in the Force happened.” 

“Perhaps.” Rey’s mouth goes through several stages of twisting, folding into a thin line, being gnawed on, licked, until she seems to reach a conclusion and only agrees, “You may be onto something there. I suppose there may be ways of finding out more though.” 

“Of course.” Ben squeezes her hand and they sit, too, swirling the green milk in their glasses as if Luke would find the action distracting and forget all about his offering of hospitality

Luke starts again. “How long have I been here? 

“Six standard years.” Ben chews his lfip, steeling his nerves before adding, “And I feel I should add that I’m very glad to see you’re not dead.” 

Pathetic. So very pathetic, but his uncle offers him a small smile. “Thanks.” 

Ben clears his throat, drumming the fingers of his free hand over his leg. “Have you been here all this time?” 

“Mostly. I didn’t bring an astromech, so it was easy to lose track of time in deep space, and I got lost a few times. But once I got here, I planned to stay. Even disassembled my X-Wing and used parts of it with this hut so I wouldn’t be able to leave even when I wanted to—”

“This. Family.” Rey’s arm is out and she’s gesticulating wildly, sounding utterly incredulous. It’s possible she’s losing it before Ben’s very eyes. “He just said  _ when _ which means he couldn’t have wanted to be here forever, but has the issue of self-inflicted agony and torture and the need of being rescued! You’re all so  _ extra. _ ” She runs out of words and chooses the next moment to sip on her beverage, and the face she makes is enough to make Ben laugh. 

He’s on a roll soon and can’t stop laughing. He’s no idea where it’s coming from, but nothings been as hilarious as this in a long time, and there’s nothing to do but laugh and laugh, even as his side begins to ache…

“I’ve been watching over the original Jedi texts, too,” Luke drawls over Ben’s laughter. “In case you were interested.” 

“We  _ are _ —I mean, I  _ am _ —ohhhhhhh…” It takes a moment for Ben to get ahold of himself, but the laughter comes to an eventual end. Luke peers at him over his glass, slightly worried, while Rey is simply beaming (maybe that’s part of love: finding happiness even when your partner is acting like he’s lost his mind...That doesn’t sound right. Ben will have to think on this some more later). 

“Read anything new and interesting?” Ben asks, clearing his throat and breathing a large gulp of air. 

“I couldn’t translate all of them.” He cants his head, studying Ben a moment, as if unsure if he should add what he’s thinking or not. “I think you and your calligraphy set could have come in handy over the years.” 

_ He decided it was worth the risk then _ . Ben’s on the defense and ready to get down to business if Luke’s wanting to make the jump into a memory hyperspace lane. “I don’t have a set anymore, but you can bring them with us and I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Ben, I’m not—”

“What my partner here means to say is…” Rey lifts their joined hands to the table as she scoots forward on the bench, “...We’re here on behalf of General Organa—your sister— and her husband, Han Solo, his comrade Chewbacca, a couple of droids that I’m given to understand have a great deal of sentimental value to you, your former students, and the entire galaxy to ask you to come back and join the Resistance.”

Luke doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t say anything for that matter. He simply sits, blinking at them and finishing off his cup of green milk. “What about you?” he finally asks, looking at Ben. “Are  _ you _ asking me to come back?” 

“Yes.” He doesn’t realize how much he means that until he says it aloud. There’s something about being here, being so viscerally surrounded by the Force. “I would like you to leave the island and come back with us.” 

“...Why?” 

“Because I need help.” Ben sucks a sharp breath and Rey holds tight to his hand. “I gave into Snoke last year and have been under his control and training in all that time. He’s still in my mind, a presence I don’t know how to get rid of, or lack the strength  _ to _ get rid of… and I don’t want to have to close myself from the Force again to keep him out.”

“You didn’t go after you left the Temple in ruins?”

_ That _ hurts. Ben should have expected it, but it still hurts. “I didn’t. Were you expecting I would—never mind. I don’t want to know. I ran and tried the life of a smuggler, and—”

“Ben!” Rey outright giggles, nudging his foot with hers under the table. “You and your first crew were delivery runners and mechanics. Then you and I were no different. You were hardly ever a smuggler.” 

“Fine. I was trying to be a normal guy making an honest living when Rey came along.” 

“The girl from Lothal?” Luke seems to perk up a little at that. 

“One and the same.” Rey isn’t looking at Luke, though. Her gaze is intent on her cup, and slowly, ever so slowly and carefully, she lifts it with the Force and lowers it back to the table. “Turns out I’m Force-sensitive, too, but when Ben started teaching me the ways of the Force, he opened the door for Snoke to manipulate him again. It took a year, but Ben was worn down and triggered into believing he had no other choice but to leave me and join Snoke. I searched for him a year before the Force connected us and I told him it wasn’t too late.”

The ghost of a smirk passes over Luke’s face. “I have a feeling you’re not just talking about my nephew now.” 

“I’m not. You were part of my search, too, Skywalker. I would have done anything to rescue Ben. If it meant finding you and dragging you out of hiding to get him, I would have done exactly that.” 

Luke strokes his beard several long and silent moments, while Ben thinks of  _ anything _ other than the woman holding his hand, sitting beside him foot to foot, knee to knee… thigh to thigh… if he thinks on any of that, he’s going to throw her over his shoulder and march them back to the ship and ravish her on the bed… Luke be damned… So he’s not thinking of doing just that  _ at all _ ...

“I like her,” Luke says to Ben. 

“Me too.” Ben smiles, warm and genuine. 

Rey clears her throat. “My point in all of that is that it wasn’t too late for Ben, and it isn’t too late for you to make a fresh start either, sir.” 

“Fighting a war isn’t the Jedi way.” Luke’s shaking his head and Ben can’t let him think he’s getting away with philosophical nonsense. Not again. 

“Neither is sitting back and allowing evil and oppression to win.” 

“Actually—”

“Compassion is essential to a Jedi,” Ben cuts-in, leveling his uncle with a pointed look. “It’s essential to  _ you _ , I know it is.” 

Luke gives a slow shake of his head. “It’s not a good idea for me to come. Too much history. Too much past. 

“Not to Mom,” Ben urges, thinking as fast as he can to convince this stubborn old nerko. “She misses  _ you _ —and not Luke Skywalker. She misses her  _ brother _ . She needs her brother.” 

“Ben and I need you, too,” Rey adds squeezing at Ben’s fingers again. “We require more advanced training.”

“Snoke is still in my head.” Ben taps a finger to his temple, holding tight to Rey’s hand, too. “And as I said, I need help shutting him out without closing myself to the Force. I can’t do that again; it was as if I were sacrificing a significant part of myself to gain something new.” 

“How could I be of any help now?” Luke’s regretful. Ben  _ feels _ it all: regret, shame, guilt… but most of all, he feels the fear when Luke ends brokenly, “I failed you for over a decade before; I don’t have the strength to go through that again.” 

“I think…” Ben licks his lips to buy himself a few precious seconds. Seconds to determine what he should say in this, what he  _ wants _ to say. “I think it’s best if we both walk into this knowing you’ll fail me again, and I’ll fail you, too. We’re both Skywalkers, and that means we’re going to hurt and disappoint each other. But we’re going to agree not to quit. And we’re going to agree to listen to each other more this time around.” 

It’s silent again and just when it’s almost unbearable, Rey ventures softly, “I think your former students would like to know they’ve not been abandoned, either. They feel they’ve let you down somehow, and it would be good for them to know if that’s not the truth.” 

“Students…” Luke’s lost to his own world, lips moving, but not saying anything aloud. Ben isn’t even a little surprised when his uncle suddenly gets up and leaves the hut without another word.

Rey looks worried as they make their way back to the ship. It’s sprinkling, and from the look of the sky, a downpour is imminent, but they’re in to rush. She asks, “What do you think he’ll decide?” 

“I think he’ll come.” Ben locks his eyes to hers, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “He just wants it to be his choice in the end, too.”

* * *

Rey held out hope in her youth that she would be able to leave certain things to her own choosing. Her hope is realized today. No one has ever known her like Ben and no one else ever will. And after tonight, there will be another layer to that. 

Deethree fusses over them for coming in wet and the probability they’ll catch a cold. Rey thanks her and informs her they won’t be needing her for the rest of the night and she should feel free to power down. It's when they’re in the turbolift going down that Rey asks Ben outright if he’d like to join her in the shower. 

His voice is hoarse when he manages a choked, “very much yes,” even as his face turns three shades of red and his eyes darken. At first she sets out for an all out seduction, and thinks she does a marvelous job of it until her nerves catch up to her, too. 

They begin with kissing and lovingly stripping each other of layer after layer of clothing. They linger to caress, stroke, and kiss new places. When Ben’s hard against her core and there’s so much heat pooling into her center, he asks if she’s ready to shower. She protests she doesn’t want to stop and Ben chuckles darkly, silken and heated and she’s certain everything inside her is molten… 

Which is fine. Perfectly fine, actually. 

Ben takes her bare bum in his hands and lifts her up. Acting on instinct she didn’t know she possessed, Rey wraps her legs around his naked torso, savoring the new sensation of kissing Ben while being naked in his arms. 

They take their time washing each other under the warm spray of the shower. Ben is eventually kneeling between her thighs, finding new places to pleasure her with his mouth. She’s breathless and boneless as Ben carries her to the plush bed. She can’t think enough to be embarrassed at the sighs and moans falling from her lips—Ben doesn’t seem to mind that she can’t form complete sentences anyways. He’s in a similar position himself. 

They’re awkward and clumsy and it takes a bit of maneuvering and testing of positions for him to fit inside her—

—but when he does… 

_ Kriff,  _ when he  _ does… _

Rey’s full. 

Ben’s buried inside her to the hilt and she wants for nothing. It’s bliss she’s never known before as they linger here and Ben dips his head to claim her lips in a searing kiss. They find a rhythm together that leads them to a glorious edge, where they tumble and fall together, murmuring each other’s names as prayers, praises, and curses. 

Ben untangles himself from Rey, and she mourns the loss of his skin on hers, until he reappears with a warm, damp washrag and wipes her clean. When he’s back in her arms, he apologizes for not lasting as long as she might have imagined. Rey kisses him and calls him a nerko before sleep takes her and she sees Ben again in her happy dreams. 

* * *

“MISTRESS REY! MISTRESS REY!” 

Rey squinches her eyes shut. She’s being pulled from a lovely dream and she doesn’t like it. She wants to stay…  _ Stay _ … 

“THERE’S SOME VAGABOND DEMANDING HE BE ALLOWED ON THE SHIP, MISTRESS REY, AND I THINK YOU SHOULD COME UP AND GET RID OF HIM NOW BECAUSE HE WON’T LISTEN TO ME!” 

Ben swears into his pillow, while Rey burrows herself deeper into his still bare chest. Deethree is relentless, only leaving when they are both sitting up, assuring her they’re coming up soon. 

Ben’s grinning, a look somewhere between dopey and smug as he cups one of Rey’s breasts in his hand. “We should plan on that again— _ KRIFF!  _ Rey!” 

“What?!” Rey’s heart rate goes from normal to dangerously fast in a matter of seconds, as Ben goes white as a sheet. 

He blinks dumbly at her. “Rey—I didn’t, I’m not on anything—I mean, it’s possible you could be—”

“Pregnancy chip, my dearest.” She leans into him, kissing his cheek and urging his hand, both hands now, back to her breasts. Her eyes fall shut as he flicks his thumbs over her nipples and she was saying something just a moment ago… Something about her age…  _ Oh _ . “Since I was fifteen.” 

“Okay.” Ben heaves a deep sigh against the skin over her sternum now. “Okay…” 

It’s the last thing she remembers either of them saying apart from, “please. Yes. Right there. Just like that. So…  _ good _ …” They discover Rey’s sore, but take immense pleasure in exploring other options of bringing each other to the brink. 

Rey’s brain is a hazy, lazy fog as they each slip into thick, soft robes—matching and monogrammed, she notices and wonders whose idea that was… She’s ready to call out to Deethree for a pot of tea and some untouched leftovers from tea the other day—

When Luke Skywalker grins at her from the table in the common area and she screams and throws herself behind Ben, pulling her robe tighter to her body. 

Skywalker smirks into his steaming cup. “Hope you don’t mind I finally told your droid I was expected. It was getting cold out there waiting on you to let me in, and besides… This is the best cup of tea I’ve had in years. 

“Don’t get used to it,” Rey snaps, marching around Ben now, burying her fluster with frustration. “Your only options on the Resistance base are shitty caf and water. No green milk or blue milk either.” 

“Ah, the sacrifices we make for freedom.” Luke shrugs and takes another sip of his tea. 

Deethree bursts from the galley, huffing and sputtering until Rey calms her, asking if she wouldn’t mind brewing another pot and warming some of the iced buns. 

Luke’s piercing blue eyes twinkle, and Rey would swear his mouth watered at the thought of food other than… whatever it was he ate on a regular basis… for the last six years. Inviting them to sit, he threaded his hands together over the table. Worn hands, Rey noticed today. Wrinkled with knotted knuckles and earned calluses. Farmer hands, and very different from Han’s mechanics hands… 

And Ben’s massive Wookie paw hands—minus the fur. Strong and steady and holding on without tiring… Hands that knew when to be firm and when to be tender and gentle—

_ Steady girl, _ Rey silently admonished.  _ Not in the presence of a Jedi Master. _

“Since Rey’s already begun to learn with you, Ben,” Luke started, “I suggest you continue along that vein as much as possible. I will of course be available for questions and extra assistance, but there’s something special to your connection. I’ve felt my sister across the galaxy, even heard her say my name, but I’ve never seen her as if she were in the room with me.” 

“Do you know what it is?” Ben asks, throwing his arm over the top of the bench for Rey to curl and lean into his side, as close as she could be without climbing into his lap (a temptation at this point, to be sure, as the tightened robe did little to conceal the taut muscles of his chest). 

“No, but that is something we can search out the answers for together eventually, if you like.” 

“Yes,” they answer in unison. 

Luke bobs his head. “Very well.” He focuses on Ben now, and Rey rests her hand over her lover and partners’s knee, lightly squeezing for support. “If I’m going to teach anything, you have to talk to me and be honest with me—not about everything, don’t snarl at me already. Our relationship was a lot of arguing mixed with even more silence and brooding, which wasn’t all my fault. So I request you tell me the important things this time around. Some things Snoke may be telling you. Rey can hear everything else, but I need you to trust me to help you find the Balance, while I do better this time to trust you with what you choose not to share.” 

“The Balance?” Ben’s brow furrows in question. 

“Yes.” Luke pauses, allowing for Deethree to set everything on the table, and Rey doesn’t know how she does it with those lifeless bright eyes, but she manages to appear as if she’s  _ glowering _ at Luke the whole time. It makes Rey smile and Luke seems to take it all in stride. 

He continues only after she’s excused herself to cleaning elsewhere on the ship. “Before the Jedi Code, there were those who practiced rituals of binding their wrists as a symbol of binding themselves to the Light and Dark and Balance True. Acknowledge the Dark, walk in the Light and find the Balance within… ‘For the Force is strong.’”

Ben licks his lips. “I can start with being honest right now to say I don’t know how much I believe that anymore. I’ve felt tricked and used by the Force. Peace is a fleeting shadow and Balance... Yesterday was the closest I’d felt to it on my own; otherwise, it’s only when I’m with Rey.” 

“We’ll find it, Ben. We’ll find it together.” Rey takes his hands in hers, drawing them to her chest, letting him feel the beating of her heart, and the peace that now dwells there, because of  _ him _ . “You’ll teach me, Luke will teach me, and we’ll search for answers to all your questions. We’ll find the Balance. Together.” 

“Together,” he vows, sealing it with a kiss so deep and full of promise, as if they were the only two aboard the ship. 

~ _ fin~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ritual bindings are mentioned in “Dooku Jedi Lost” by Cavin Scott. Couldn’t recommend the book more! 


	34. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue... <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legend and truth go hand-in-hand in Star Wars for me. There's what actually happened, and there will always been the legends that spark from the epic event. I hope you don't mind, but I wanted to leave battles to legend, and the survivors to their own lives afterwards... Rey and Ben have each other and they have their own choices to make now. They call no one 'Master', and are free to lead their own lives.   
> And that's truly all I wanted for them <3 
> 
> I hope enjoy...

* * *

At first Ben insists that Geegee is his and should obviously leave with them from the Resistance base. Rey argues that he should have the option to remain with Luke if he wants. They’re both inexplicably elated when GG-728 elects to join them on their first training mission to Naboo. Geegee is displeased to learn that Rey now serves as co-pilot more often than not, but enjoys his new friend, Deethree, and finds other means of keeping busy and walking in on Rey and Ben kissing (or more).

The war isn’t won right away with the return of Luke Skywalker. Some are frustrated with that, others are simply grateful to have him back. 

Ben considers himself grateful. He and Rey are able to make several raids on the First Order Archives and vaults, collecting records and data for their research. Through studying, reading, and discussing together, Ben comes to see that there will always be mysteries to the past. Questions that will never be answered and will always remain. He comes to accept this over time. And as he’s now the one of those people in history being asked probing questions he’d rather let be…

To him, they’re unimportant. He’s not being asked the  _ right _ questions, and no one seems to understand that even when he tries to correct. 

Rey gets it though. She understands what he means. 

The things that are important are thus: The war against the First Order came to an end at last, two long, wearying years after the return of Luke Skywalker. It was a grand collaboration and collective of planets and citizens around the galaxy. The Resistance, led by General Organa and her second in command, Vice Admiral Holdo, sparked hope in those who had none. 

Ben and Rey keep their word to train and learn with Luke, but never at the expense of their own missions. They continue their efforts in seeking out answers to their own questions. They lead supply runs to those who wanted to join or assist the Resistance. Once, they led a squadron to raid First Order Destroyers, their ship bursting with medical supplies that the Resistance disburses to First Order territories across the galaxy. Two sisters, Paige and Rose Tico frequently volunteer to fly with them. Poe and Finn each eventually make the rank of General themselves. 

Luke is reunited with Hennix, Voe, and Tai and it takes time for trust to flow freely between students and teacher again, but they commit to complete their training with him again. And so they train at each and every base. Rey and Ben join as they feel led, more so in the final months of the war. 

They all seem to know together it’s coming to an end, and they work tirelessly for it. 

Some say in the final battle that it was a battle of lightsabers like none in the galaxy had ever seen before: Luke leading the charge against Snoke, his guards in red and Knights of Ren. Others report that it was over before it began, with Skywalker vanquishing them all with a single mighty choke hold in the Force. Still others claim it was a brutal battle, a clashing of swords against weapon, with Snoke presiding over it all until Skwalker himself delivered the final blow that ended his tyrannical rule. 

General Organa is reported to have wished it had been  _ her _ to end the Supreme Leader’s life for all he took from her. 

The survivors don’t say, and refuse to answer most questions in a debriefing. Hennix and Tai are remembered as heroes of the galaxy, and the entire Resistance was in attendance to pay their respects as their funeral pyres burned orange, red, and gold against the night sky. 

Luke and his remaining student, Voe, set out to rebuild the Temple afterwards. They are joined this time by Chewbacca’s nephew, Lowbacca. Ben and Rey visit once every standard year for training exercises and to deliver new and noteworthy archives they’ve found, but the Jedi path is still not the path for them. 

They pursue the Balance in all they do. 

Their first missions after the war included attacks on the slave guild, and assisting with the dissolving of the traffic of lives with the Medical Command Station. Slaves are given all the aid they require and are offered the choice between returning to their homeworld or having assistance in making a new life for themselves elsewhere. Rey fights hard in the new galactic government for their right to choose. 

Ben and Rey marry on their first trip to Naboo after leaving Acht-To with Luke and dropping him at the new Resistance base on Crait. Lando offers the ship as a wedding present when he finds out and they accept. It feels right for Ben to fly something from his grandmother’s homeworld, as if he carries a part of her with him as he searches for answers. 

Their first stop after the war is to Takodana, where Ben introduces Rey to Maz. He doesn’t know how she recognizes him, at first, but she takes his hand and tells him she could never forget such beautiful eyes. Rey agrees and Maz cryptically tells them they will find answers on a planet in the Unknown regions, Merokia. She says a tailor by the name of Karr Nuq Sin lives there, and he may surprise them with all the stories of the Force he’s collected over the years. 

They don’t leave Merokia for almost a year, taking up jobs as mechanics and local pilots in order to live near Karr and make copies of all his records. Karr becomes this brother-figure neither of them knew they'd been missing, and they keep close contact even after finally leaving the planet. 

A year later, Rey visits Ephemera on Qi’ra’s birthday. Ben hovers over the planet, not liking any of it the entire time, but his heart simultaneously melts and leaps as Rey shakes hands with Qi’ra at the door before walking out to the platform for him to get her. She makes love to him three times that night, telling him with words she can’t express how deeply she loves him, and how thankful she is to have him.

They wait until five years after the war before deciding the time is right to try for children, agreeing to settle on Naboo while raising their family. Ben occasionally accepts guest lecturer offers at Theed University and is eventually offered a full-time position. Leia and Han are frequent visitors of their home. Luke is welcome, too, and it’s a home full of life and laughter and family. 

Ben never knows entirely if it was the physical death of Snoke that ended the voices in his mind, or if he’d finally mastered control of it before. He doesn’t question it, though. 

He has Rey and together, they are Balanced. 

There is harmony, and there is peace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merokia and Karr Nuq Sin are from one of my favorite books, “The Force Collector”. It’s honestly the perfect Star Wars book to me, and I adore it. I couldn’t help but add him into the end. I think he and Ben would have been friends, honestly. 
> 
> When I first started reading Reylo fanfic, I never thought I could write one. And then I never thought I'd write something canonverse. Then listened to the encouraging voices of madi_solo, Frumpologist, and QuinTalon. They are amazing women, and I would not have written this story without their kindness and support. And this story would not be what it is without their hours and hours and hours stretched across the months of this awful year. They make the writing process wonderful and magical, and I'm indebted to them. And in awe of their friendship <3 
> 
> Thank you all who have read and left kudos and comments. My heart is light and full that you considered something I've written worthy of your time <3 And thank you so much. I'm beyond grateful for every kindness you've granted me. May you find harmony and peace somewhere in the midst of this year.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates weekly on Sundays!


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